


The S Supremacy

by Marta_TP



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Crimes & Criminals, F/F, Organized Crime, Plot Driven, spy AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2018-04-09 11:18:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 119,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4346576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marta_TP/pseuds/Marta_TP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ms. S gathers a group of misfits and gives them a new reason to wake up for another day. The fact that said reason is less than legal is not but a minor detail. While her business has been thriving for the last decade, a new competitor is about to make the group run for their money.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So this story has been hunting me for some time now and I figured it was better to get it out of my system before it kills me.
> 
> If you're following any of my other stories, not to worry, updates are on the way.
> 
> I would also like to leave a warning right now: while this story won't have the heaviness of Inevitable, this characters are full of grey areas and I won't have it with people complaining about them not being lovable or cheaters. This is fiction and I like to write characters that are not perfect. So consider yourself warned.
> 
> Credits for the title go to PeachieBaby05.
> 
> Finally thanks to the amazing Cophine for beta this. Hopefully she'll have the patience to stay with me for this journey.

The day I met Siobhan Sadler could've gone down as one of the worst in my life, but instead, it marked the day I found a purpose in life. It was the day I was given the opportunity to be the ruler of my own destiny and that was no small feat, given the fact that I had just turned 18 and had been kicked out of school; being caught smoking pot at boarding school are two elements that don't go well together.

In their defense the school administration had shown an admirable amount of patience with me. My consistent tardiness to classes and habitual absence from the mandatory church prayers were often overlooked. Come to think of it, maybe the pot was the last straw; the push that made them realize I was too much trouble to keep around. Perhaps they'd reached the conclusion that I was a bad element, prone to adversely influence sensible young minds. So it was with no surprise that after Sister Martha found me smoking on the floor between two benches inside the church - oh, yeah… kinda forgot that detail - she sent me packing.

A semester short of graduating from high school and with a half empty duffle bag at my feet, I watched the heavy, forged iron gate close before my eyes. I didn't panic until the moment I heard the loud metallic sound of the latch sliding into the lock, then yes; that was the precise moment the notion of it all finally sunk in.

I was 18 and had no one to turn to. Orphaned since I was 2 years old, the only thing I had to remember my parents by was a worn out photograph. I was told my parents were blue-collar workers, living paycheck to paycheck and had had nothing to leave me when my drunken father slammed himself and my mother into large, concrete truck. Instant death. Gramma, my mom's mother took me in and did what she could. She loved me, and while she couldn't give me everything I wanted, she did give me everything I needed. Until she couldn't.

I was 9 when I attended her funeral, a ridiculously empty church for such a great woman. My gran's last hours were spent with a priest, two neighbors - equally old and there to see their not so distant future - and a child who refused to cry in public.

That same stubborn child reemerged in front of the boarding school's old gate; refusing to cry, but feeling just as lonely and lost. It was 9 years later and I had the exact same thing I had back then: a little money in a bank account from the sale of my grandmother's house and my mind. The latter had assured my admission to a prestigious school, and had seen me kicked out. The money would support me for no longer than two, maybe three years. It's a sad, sad world we live in.

Finding a job would be my first priority, of course. Although I really didn't have time to think about it. For someone who'd been on the wrong side of luck her entire life, that day, ironically, marked my turning point.

With a deep breath I bent over to grab my laughably light weight bag and turned away from the gate; swearing to myself not to lay eyes upon it again, and began my trek in the direction of the bus stop.

"What are you going to do now, chicken?"

I turned to see a woman, red scarf around her hair, leaning against a lime green, 60's convertible Thunderbird. Except for the vintage sports car, I would've thought her a mother of one of my former classmates. She was wearing one of those summer dresses, pink and bright yellow. The car and the her genuinely relaxed posture completely separated her from the women picking up their perfect little girls for a forced weekend. She lacked the stiffness that always accompanies the need to always look impeccable.

"What's it to you?" I roughly replied, not stopping.

"Well, aren't you a feisty one!" She laughed. "That's good! I could use some spark!"

I stopped in my tracks and turned around to face her completely. "Listen lady, I don't know what you're into, but I'm not looking for a sugar mama!"

The woman's smile disappeared. "Good! Because what I'm about to offer you won't be for free."

I scoffed. "And what makes you think I want something from you?"

She uncrossed her ankles and took a few steps in my direction. "I have the feeling we could help each other out, Cosima."

I remember my heart starting to beat much faster than it's supposed to and gave a few steps back, preparing myself to make a run for it, if needed be. "How the fuck do you know my name?"

With an easy smile on her lips she answered me in a calm voice. "Ways and means, chicken."

"What do you mean by that?" Alarms were still sounding inside my head, but for whatever reason, they were not as loud as a moment ago.

"That's my special skill, you see." She answered cryptically and approached me carefully. "And it just so happens that I could use someone with your special skill."

"I think you have me mistaken with someone else." My answering laugh was too loud, as it is when someone is unnerved. "I have no  _special skill_."

She chuckled and went to rest a hand on my shoulder, but dropped it quickly as I shifted away from her. "Everyone has a special skill, Cosima; something they're really good at." She raised her hand again and this time I let her rest it on my shoulder. "I can help you develop yours, so that you can use it to your benefit."

I squinted, suspicion filling me. "Yeah? And what would I have to give you in return?"

She took the bag from my hands and threw it on the backseat of her car. "Why don't you get inside?" She said, opening the door on the driver's side and climbing behind the wheel. "I'll explain on the way?"

I snorted and made no move towards the car. "Do you really think I'm getting in the car with someone I don't even know?"

"I'm Siobhan Sadler, but you can call me Ms. S."


	2. The Warsaw Fiasco

"Ohhh… That's not good." Felix says in an oddly voice, considering his words.

"What's not good?" I ask, continuing to read my book.

"Look!" He responds a bit louder, the hand holding his nightly scotch aiming at the large, flat screen in a corner of the living room.

I tilt my head backwards on the couch's armrest and take in the upside down news cast on the screen. With an uninterested gaze, I try to focus on what's got him so worried. The good looking young woman is speaking somberly of the death of some important dude.

I shrug, the name says nothing to me. "Is it me or are the news anchors are getting younger every year?"

"Cosima!" Felix interrupts, his finger pointing at the TV. "Look!"

I roll my eyes and shift on the couch to get a better view. "So? Some old geezer bites the dust. Why should I care?"

"Yeah?" He challenges. "Look where it happened!"

I read the scrolling captions on the bottom of the screen: "Russian billionaire, Alexei Lebedev found dead in his Hotel suite in Warsaw; Lebedev was to be received by the Prime-Minister this afternoon; Polish police are not releasing any details regarding the circumstances surrounding Mr. Lebedev's death". Poland. Sarah's in Poland.

"You don't think…" I don't dare say it. Ms. S doesn't have many rules, but the "no death" policy is an unbreakable principle.

"I don't think so." Felix takes a large swallow of his drink. "Not unless something went incredibly wrong."

"Was he Sarah's target?" I ask, now fully focused on the picture of the man on the screen. He looks like every other billionaire: sharply dressed in a black suit, short, white hair receding at the temples, surrounded by extremely fit men; most likely his security detail.

"You know as much as I do." Felix lashes out as he stalks to the bar. After pouring another glass of scotch, he turns back to me. "I haven't seen her since she came over to give Sarah her mission."

Although it's not unusual for Ms. S to go several weeks without checking in on us, it doesn't happen when one of us is out. On those occasions, she stops by every day to be sure whoever's out didn't make contact with some sort of emergency. While the three of us are each other's first line of defense when things don't go according to plans, Ms. S is always a last resource.

Sarah left for Poland three days ago, she's expected to return in two. That's all we know; the location and the timeframe. We aren't given any other information on someone else's mission; not unless is a joint effort.

"If something goes wrong Sarah will contact us." I try to appease Felix.

"What if she can't?" He's starting to pace and I know he's on the verge of breaking down. "What if she's in trouble?"

They've been together forever, picked up from the foster system by Ms. S when they were only 14, and have been inseparable since they were 5; or so they've told me. The only thing they don't have in common with your everyday siblings is the biology. Everything else is there. They pester each other day and night, half the time I can't bear being in the same room with them, but they've got each other's back and god forbid someone decides to torment either of them the way they do each other. Sometimes even I don't get away with it.

"I'm gonna call S!" Felix says and goes for his phone.

I jump out of the couch and run towards him, grabbing his hand before he can make the call. "Fe, you can't do that. You have no idea if this has anything to do with Sarah."

"Like hell I can't!" He shouts back, clearly beginning to panic. "I won't let my sister… AHHH… You Bitch!" He stops to complain as I twist his arm behind his back, his cell falling to the floor.

"No name calling." I say, releasing his arm. "Let's wait a few hours. If we don't hear from Sarah in that time, we'll think of what to do."

He begrudgingly settles, but his one night cap turns into three. By the time he's getting himself a forth, I'm starting to think that maybe we should've called Ms. S. The secure line rings, and Felix gets to it before I even manage to get off the couch. I pause to think that if he was this fast on his missions maybe S would let him get a few more like he's always asking.

"Sarah?!" He answers, ignoring my disapproving look. "Oh... Thank God!" He lets out, but his relief is fast replaced by annoyance, as it always happens between the two of them. "Where the hell have you been? We've been worried sick." He listens quietly from some time, his eyes going to me after a while. "No, no... Just Cosima. Yeah, sure!" I watch him set the phone down and press a button.

"Hi Cos!" Sarah's voice fills the room, but I can hear the apprehension in her tone. "Hope you didn't call S."

I give Felix one of my looks as I answer. "No, we thought it was better to wait a little longer. But we watched the news and I imagine Ms. S..."

"Yeah, yeah... It's a shit storm around here." She says and wherever she is it sounds like the end of a very long tunnel.

"Do you need one of us for an extraction?" I ask, because Felix is too busy feeling relieved to be practical.

"No, it's fine." Sarah says, her connection starting crackle. "I mana...out of Warsaw...I'm in uhmmm Szczecin, which is just...Germany, will get out there and..."

Static.

"Sarah! Sarah!" Felix screams into the phone.

"What!?" She screams back.

I roll my eyes and say slowly so she can understand me. "Call us when you get to Germany, okay?"

"Roger that!"

Six, long hours later she informs us that she has reached Berlin and from there will catch a plane to meet up with us in London.

The next afternoon Ms. S arrives at our East End house to debrief Sarah, and while usually that happens in private, this time she insists on having all of us together.

"Care to explain how this happened?" She asks sitting at our table, the perpetual mug of tea between her hands. "It was a simple mission, Sarah."

"Oi, it's not my fault some lunatic decided to make his head explode like a fucking melon, is it?" She's confrontational, but I recognize her underlying emotion; Sarah never fails and this is probably bothering her more than anyone.

"Language!" Ms. S warns her with a stern face. "When... How did that happened?"

"How the hell should I know?" Sarah says, her shoulders sinking low. "I was approaching his hotel room, when I hear shouting from inside. Next thing I know the two guards in the hall open the door and the guy's missing half his head."

"Ewww... Visual." Felix makes a disgusted face.

"Sniper?" I ask.

"As far as I can tell." Sarah nods and continues. "So anyway, everyone's running around; in and out of his bedroom, cops crawling all over the place. It's not like I could get what I came for."

"And what exactly was that?" Felix eyes Ms. S as he poses the question.

Sarah waits for Ms. S to give a small nod before she answers. "It was simple, really. Get in, copy his hard drive, get out."

"What was so interesting about his hard drive?" I look at Ms. S and she avoids my stare.

"You know I don't ask those questions of our clients." She says getting up. "It's none of our business why they want it. If they pay they'll get it."

"And that's the issue." Felix chimes in. "Whoever this client is, they've paid and won't get it."

"Thats the least of our concerns, we can refund him, no problem." Ms. S turns back around and faces us all, one at a time. "This business is built on reputation alone, and we can't afford to lose that."

A thoughtful silence falls as we contemplate what she just said. Of course that's the biggest problem we have to solve. If it's thought we're not reliable then clients will start to look elsewhere, and competition in this business is ferocious.

"I'll get it!" Sarah's raspy voice cuts the silence. "Don't say anything to the client yet. If he asks, say that we're still taking care of..."

"No, you won't! We do nothing until we know who wanted Labedev eliminated and why."

"The man was a rich fuck, probably with ties to the Russian Mafia." Sarah gets up quickly and starts to pace. "Half the world wanted him dead and the other half wanted to pull the trigger!"

"Maybe so." I say calmly. "But only a hand full of people could've pulled off what happened in Warsaw."

"Cosima's right." Ms. S grabs her coat and heads for the door, but stops to look pointedly at Sarah. "You stay put! I can't have you running around for the time being. There's no saying if anyone saw you there."

"I'm better than that!" Sarah says back, but I'm pretty sure the older woman didn't hear her.

We don't hear from her for two weeks. Ms. S doesn't tell us if she's making progress with her investigation into what we've started to call "The Warsaw Fiasco", much to Sarah's displeasure. The media is also losing interest in the case. For once Sarah was right: Lebedev was not loved and I'm sure his body was not yet cold when his so called friends came forward to denounce his not so subtle ties with some of the most notorious Russian criminals. In fact, the more they talked about the man, the more I'm sure they had nothing to do with it. Most likely they are afraid something similar will happen to them.

I don't shed tear for the guy, but the lack of information is as disturbing as it is unexpected. The general public isn't privy to the sort of information we are, and while it's not uncommon for these sort of things to never be known to them, to those who are inside the business, these kind of assassinations are claimed. In our line of work, more than anything else, there's no such thing as bad publicity.

Ms. S stays out of the killing contacts, but that doesn't mean some offers don't come to our door on occasion. And while those type of contracts tend to be the most lucrative, there are still some people who come to us precisely because we don't take them. Win some, lose some, as Ms. S likes to say.

When she finally gets back to us, is not to give us information about "The Warsaw Fiasco", but with a new job.

"For this one I'll need all of you." She announces and has to wait a moment for us to calm down. Those are the one's we like the most. Distributing folders like they're playing cards around the table, she continues. "The target is a Mr. Henry Webster, 56, widowed 10 years ago."

"Whoa... That's young. Any alarms there." I ask, looking at a picture of what I assume to be him, clearly taken from afar.

"Not that I could say. Breast cancer. Hospital records seem legit." Ms. S says, confident about the early research she always does before handing us a job.

"Okay... What do you need us to do?" Sarah asks, not even bothered to open the folder.

Ms. S hesitates and that is unusual. "That's the thing..." She stops to clear her voice. "We don't know yet."

"What do you mean?" Felix is the one that voices our surprise.

"For now your job is to get in and gain their trust. New instructions will come as it progresses." She explains further.

"I don't like it." Sarah pushes the folder to the center of the table. "Why don't we have everything we need to know now?"

"Our client is aware of the rules under which we operate and has assured me they won't be broken during this job."

"Well, if he says so..."

I hear Sarah's sarcasm from a distance, my eyes glued to one particular photograph in the folder. She looks different: the wild blonde curls which I used to spend hours admiring are gone and a straight, silky golden hair frames her graceful but strong features. Although I'm sure she could say the same of me, over ten years have come and gone. But it's more than her looks; it's also something about the way she carries herself, more confident somehow, even if she's hanging on some guy's arm. Maybe it's the situation where the picture was taken: some sort of social event, judging by the way she was dressed. The photo is clearly taken by a professional.

"Oi, Cos? Anyone in there?" Sarah's hand waving in front of my eyes.

I blink a few times and clear my throat. "I can't do this job." I say, my voice still sounding hoarse to my ears.

Ms. S laces her fingers and, placing her elbows on the table, brings her hands to her chin, eyes locked with mine. "I understand there's an element in this equation you're familiar with from your past."

Her gaze is pointed, as if daring me to ask from where she got that information. I've never shared anything other than the strictly necessary about my past, but I've always suspected she knew more about it than she has let on.

"It's more than that!" I point at the picture. "If she's...an element, then I can't use any of my aliases. She knows my name, knows where I came from."

"Then you'll be Cosima. As far as I'm concerned that's all she knows." She's not backing down and usually I know better than confront her head-on. "Unless you have been in contact with her ever since."

I'm sure my expression is one of defiance, but I can't seem to hide it. "You know damn well that hasn't happened."

She opens her arms. "Good! It's settled then."

"Who are you two talking about?" Sarah, who has been surprisingly quiet the whole time, asks.

"I put my savings account that it's about the nice piece of ass in this photo." Felix says, holding the photo in front of Sarah's eyes, whose only answer is a long whistle and takes the photo from Felix's hand.

"Delphine Cormier, 30, soon to be Mrs. Webster by marriage with the target's eldest son." Ms. S says, while giving me a side glance. "My sources tell me she's a regular at the Webster residence."

"I bet she's not wearing any knickers in this one." Sarah offers, holding the picture close to her eyes. "You can tell by the way her dress is so tight."

"What's your story with her?" Felix asks, recovering the photo from Sarah and inspecting it himself.

"None!" I dryly answer. "We have no story!"


	3. The French Beauty

It's not that I hadn't noticed her before, it would be impossible not to. In fact, I was pretty sure that the moment she passed through the heavy iron gates for the first time, the entire school noticed her. Even at the tender age of 16, Delphine Cormier had the ability to make an entire room stop breathing, especially if said room was filled with hormone crazed teenagers. She was taller than practically every girl in school and most of the boys. The shadow of the curves of adulthood easy to spot; the awkward phase between child and adult would be fleeting for her; a brief rite of passage barely deserving regard. The golden curls framing her already elegant features to perfection and an accent was so profoundly French did nothing to ease the aching hearts suffering for her attention.

Girls looked at her with admiration, in the shape of ill disguised envy, boys flocked to her periphery like moths to a flame.

Me? Well... I admired her from afar, my heart among those who craved just a glance my way. However, the few times our eyes met she quickly look away, like most of the girls in my class.

The boarding school was mixed gender, but the classes were not. So, while I could easily watch Delphine concentrate on what the teachers were saying, I stayed away from her during the intermissions; sparing myself from watching her laugh and give attention to the growing crowd of male admirers in ways she would never give me.

I didn't need the wisdom of years to know that it was really not her fault. People talk and the school was a cluster of gossips. The fact that the talk was always done behind my back didn't prevent me from knowing exactly what was being said. I was obviously aware that every time my name was said between the popular students was always accompanied by words like  _lesbian_ or  _dyke._  Anyone bothering to give me the time of the day was labeled as such by association. So Delphine keeping her distance was not only expected, it was the rule.

In her first year at the boarding school I've watched her sunny locks grow past the length of her face to graze the top of her shoulders. The shape of her body developing faster than most of the other girls - myself included. I've also witnessed her go through several boyfriends and although she didn't stack the most impressive number - Ruth, my roommate, took that award, maybe in an attempt to prove to everyone that she didn't swing my way - Delphine still dated many guys in the extent of those 9 months. Be that as it may, they never lasted long; a few weeks, maybe a month and they were "on a break", at least until she decided to give it another try… with a different guy.

Delphine was building a reputation, just not a good one.

Although her grades were incredible, on some occasions rivaling my own, her growing list of exes made her the center of gossip amongst the girls, to the point of bets being made behind her back. Always behind her back. To her face girls would act politely, pretending to be friends in such an exquisite way that the French beauty was the most popular girl in school in a matter of months.

Yes, of course I've noticed her before. I just never met her. Never exchanged a single word, not even a  _hello_ in the morning or an awkward  _sorry_ after bumping into her in the hallway.

The first time we spoke was nothing forced...it was simple, almost natural.

"It's lovely, isn't it?" She said, her voice soft and somewhat distant, as if lost in thought.

It was the middle of the fall, one of those sunny days that we should enjoy before the winter brings and the heavy, gray clouds and the non-stop days of rain.

"It really is." I agreed nodding, my eyes remaining on the small lake in the school's property.

I had gone there with the intention of find some peace after another week of school. The joint in my breast pocket an aching reminder of true intentions. I refrained from doing it though, not sure the level of trouble I would be in if she saw it.

I tapped the pocket lightly, as if just feeling its presence would somehow help with my anxiety. I turned around to find her sitting under a tree, her back resting against its large trunk and her knees supporting a sketchbook. She was looking at me with an arched brow, like she was studying me with unfeigned curiosity. She does nothing to hide her stare as pink lips quirk up in a birth of a smile.

Unable to hold her intense gaze any longer, I looked down at my feet, determined to conceal the crimson coloring my face.

She chuckled softly. "Did I steal your spot?"

I shrugged. "Huh?" My eyes drilling holes in the fiery red and vivid yellow leaves beneath my feet.

"Well, if you're going to stand there could you, at least, move a little to the side?" Delphine instructed with a trace of amusement in her voice. "You're kinda in the way." She added, when I finally looked at her. Her arm extended, a pen secure between her fingers as she motioned me to step aside with a movement of her wrist.

I did, worrying my lip as my eyes looked around, not a soul in sight as I was expecting to find the place. Well, with the exception of the French blonde, of course.

"Merci." She said with another soft laugh and returned her attention to the sketchbook.

I let my eyes stay on her for a little while longer, keeping a few meters of space between us. If she noticed the gawking, or if it was making her uncomfortable, she said nothing. As far as I could tell, Delphine was completely oblivious to my presence. Eventually I left, looking back only once as I walked away, noticing that her attention remained on whatever she was doing.

Even if that episode was constantly on my mind, it changed nothing in my everyday life. It was not a first step to the beginning of any kind of relationship. It was as if it never happened, so much so that I started to believe that it was an invention of my overactive imagination; that I actually  _had_  smoked the weed in my pocket and imagined the whole thing. In fact, that notion became such a reality in my mind that I really wasn't expecting to find Delphine in the same place the following Friday. Yet upon arriving, my eyes instinctively went to the same tree and there she was. Sitting under its branches, the sketchbook on her raised knees and a pen between her fingers.

"Next week I bring snacks." She said, never lifting her eyes from her sketching.

Maybe it was because I still didn't fully believe she was actually there, but I finally found my voice.

"Yeah… If we're gonna make a habit of this." I joke, giving a few careful steps in her direction.

Delphine looked briefly at me but seemed otherwise unaffected that I was there. While she gave no indication that my proximity was invasive, I still approached her with excessive caution, as if she were a wild creature. I knew I really shouldn't, but I just couldn't help myself to get a closer look.

It was ridiculous, of course. The exotic French beauty wouldn't dash away with a scared stare my way; the same way that she, obviously, wouldn't leap to attack me. Especially when she didn't even flinch as I stopped close to her, still standing and staring down at her.

"Do you mind sitting down?" Although Delphine's voice was serious, her eyes didn't leave her sketch. "I hate to have people hovering over me."

"Hmm… yes, I imagine it doesn't happen very often." I said lightly, as I sat down next to her, still keeping an acceptable distance.

Delphine turned her head to look at me and I saw the closest thing to an unapologetic smile she offered me so far. "No, it doesn't." She confirmed with a small nod, her eyes already leaving me and returning to her pad.

My own eyes followed hers. "What are you doing anyway?" I asked, my voice remained low.

Delphine didn't answer me, instead she raised her sketchbook and turning it my way. I studied it closely: using nothing but a narrow point, black pen, Delphine had drawn the vista in front of us. The small area on the lower left corner of the drawing was a more detailed image of the small lake, which I imagined is what I had interrupted. The lines were fine and delicate, but there was something off with it.

"I didn't know you could draw." I chose to comment.

"Why should you?" Even though her words were a little rough, the tone was not. It was more of an observation, her intention not necessarily dismissing me.

"I suppose you're right." I agreed under my breath, while Delphine shifted the book back onto her knees. "You're very good, I like it." I said after, with a small smile.

For the first time Delphine looked me in the eyes, her brows frowned, expressing doubt. "But…"

I thought about it for a little bit, considering if I should just keep my view to myself. "Hmmm… there's something missing." I tentatively said, swallowing a lump.

"What do you mean by that?" Delphine examined her own drawing again. "It's not done yet?" She said in a defensive way.

"Well, I know that." I decided to continue. "But I don't know… Maybe it's the lack of color… I don't know."

She quirked her lips up and tapped her index finger on the book. "It's black and white." She said softly. "See!" And showed me the drawing again.

"I think that's obvious." I pressed my lips together, amused by the little pout she had on. "What's the matter? I said I like it."

"But when you say there's something missing, you better have a damn good reason!" She countered.

I shrugged. "I just like color."

Delphine eyed me top to bottom, from my loose wavy hair, my light green and blue top, passing by my colorful large pants and after a brief stop on my orange high top sneakers, she smiled wide.

"Obviously." She commented.

I was blushing, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks under this girl's close inspection. When her eyes met mine again, I swear I could feel the blood rush to my face. Deciding that she made a very good point, I stayed quiet for a while, Delphine getting back to her drawing. I watched the emerging form of the picture, her right hand giving life to the fine lines with fast strokes, occasionally stopping to glance for a moment or two at a particular point before continuing.

When she was finished, she signed it and scribbled the date on the bottom right corner before ripping the sheet from the sketchbook and handing it to me.

"It's not very colorful." She said like an apology, but I could see the mirth in her eyes. "Maybe it can grow on you."

With my eyes wide open in surprise, I waved my hands in the space between us. "Oh no, no, no… I can't take that!"

Delphine frowned her eyebrows in confusion and it's the cutest thing ever. "Why? Don't tell me that you hate it that much."

I vigorously shook my head. "No, that's not it." I assured her. "But I can't accept your…"

"Don't worry, Cosima, I can do another." She laughed.

I took the drawing and simply stared at it, perhaps to hide another wave of red invading my cheeks.

"I didn't know you knew my name." I said, trying to sound casual.

She closed her sketchbook and stored it in her bag. "Everyone knows who you are." Delphine informed me with a genuine nonchalant tone, getting up and brushing the leaves off her skinny jeans.

I watched her leave, trying to produce some moisture in my mouth, feeling the slight chill from the ground. After she disappeared between the trees I looked at the drawing in my hands. At least from that moment on I would had proof that it had really happened. That Delphine Cormier had really been there; that we'd enjoyed a decent conversation. Delphine  _fucking_  Cormier really knew who I was. Even if when we found each other surrounded by our school colleagues she still acted like that never happened.

I didn't care about it, I knew she meant nothing by it. Delphine was just being nice, that was it. Either way I kept the drawing on the top shelf of my nightstand, with the date of October 10th of 2002.


	4. Are You Gonna Go My Way?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll be getting back to the present with this chapter. This going back and forth is something that will happen several times, but not always at regular breaks. If you find it somewhat confusing, let me know and I'll put something in the beginning of each chapter.
> 
> Thank yous to Cophine for the always useful help.

Leaving Sarah and Felix downstairs, I go up to my bedroom, bringing the folder Ms. S gave us with me. While the two of them like to study it as they go and only when it's proven absolutely necessary, I like to examine our mission carefully to avoid complications. Sarah, for instance, usually pays very little attention to the information S gives us, and Felix, so far, was only allowed to carry a few simple missions on his own. Most of the time he's our first line of defense if things go south. How Sarah never had a misfire before Warsaw is a mystery to me and the fact that Felix will come along with us on the field can only be explained by the absolute necessity of having three people to complete the job.

Opening the folder and going through it carefully for the first time, I'm taken aback by how thick it is and, at the same time, how little information it contains. As much as I don't like to admit it, I'm forced to agree with Sarah on this one: something feels very wrong. And is not just that someone from what feels like another life seems to be a factor in it.

According to Ms. S, Mr. Webster is relocating from his Manhattan penthouse to a large estate not far from Boston. The reasons for it aren't known, but it provides for the perfect cover to get us in: the move to a much bigger place requires him to hire new help, with a set of skills so far he never demanded. This is where we come in.

Mr. Webster is recruiting new security and it just so happens that our lot has the perfect qualifications - or would have, had our resumes be real - for what he needs. Sarah will pose as a weapons and tactical expert, Felix, I'm incredulous to find, is supposed to be very good at hand-to-hand combat, and my expertise unsurprisingly falls into the technology aspect. Along with this there's also a small summary of my future responsibilities as an IT security specialist and I assume that the other two folders contain similar of information regarding their parts.

How we got the jobs without even a single interview is something none of us bothered to ask Ms. S, fully aware that even if she knew the reason for it, she would never reveal it. However, is not hard to guess that whoever is behind this is part of our new employer's organization. Or in other words, Mr. Webster has a mole.

We were also given a blueprint of the Estate. A two-story house, where the ground floor is divided in a kitchen, pantry and laundry room, two bathrooms - presumably, one for the workers, considering its proximity to the kitchen. Two small bedrooms, a large dining room, a lounge with a fireplace and a library round out the first floor. The upstairs has four bedrooms, a suite and an office, plus two more bathrooms. The basement has two sections: a small area where the fuse-box, furnace, and, interestingly enough, the security panel is located; the other, much bigger area is used as a wine cellar.

The enormous backyard is resplendent with a spacious pool, two tennis courts, and if Mr. Webster chose, he could accommodate up to five horses in his stables. The 250 plus acres of land would make for fine riding. In fact, he found all the comfort that money can buy when he acquired this 19th century piece of land from some old Bostonian family, which can trace their lineage up to the founding fathers, according to the deed, that somehow Ms. S got her hands on.

What she didn't provide however, which would be much more useful, is where Mr. Webster got the millions such comfort would cost.

From the research, we know that he's currently the CEO of a company that specializes in buying other companies under financial stress and takes them apart, selling what's left of it to the highest bidder and with great profits. It seems Mr. Webster is what the business world calls a butcher.

But here's the catch: while it's not hard to find where his money is coming from now, how he started the business is an entirely different matter.

Coming from a modest middle-class family, his father was a low level accountant, hardly any competition for the big firms established in New York, while his mother was a kindergarten teacher at a school of one of the lowest income boroughs in the city - Brooklyn, before it was trendy. Little Henry finished high-school with an average grade, but showing a specially propensity for the numbers and, with his parents unable to put him through college, learned the trade with his father. It was not until he was close to thirty, already married and a father, that he finally found the financial stability to go to business school, also with average results. But he never went on his own and continued to work on his father small but stable business.

After that, there's a big hole in his history and the only information we get is that his father died when Webster was 37. At the age of 40 he reappears, deep in the business of mergers and acquisitions and making up to five million a year.

It's my experience that, no matter how much of a wizard you are with numbers, you don't get like that without some black magic along the way.

Henry Webster has two sons, both still living with him and not likely to move out any time soon, considering the house he just purchased: Daniel's the eldest and has been groomed to take over the business, William is five years younger, and by all accounts, is living the life one would expect from someone who has no immediate responsibilities. Their mother, I see from old pictures, was a beautiful woman before disease riddled her round figure and claimed her long red hair. However the two boys pulled at their father, commonly looking, with a head full of black curly hair, average stature even though the youngest, who just turned 27, is a bit taller.

I pick up the picture with Delphine again, this time in the solitude of my room I can study it more closely, but the first impression remains. I get the feeling that Daniel, with his arm firmly around her waist, as if claiming her, is not the one in control. Delphine is the one exuding confidence that those types social events require. Her back straight, the hand closer to her fiancée's body delicately rested on his shoulder, the high-heels she had on making the height between them that much noticeable.

Maybe that is why she seems to be the one that dominates the picture, but the impression persists. There's something about Delphine's expression, her strong gaze with steady hazel eyes, that raises in me a new kind of curiosity about her. She awakens no longer a teenager's sort of affection as it once did, but something deeper. The feeling that this woman has very little to do with the person I've met years ago doesn't leave my mind. And it's not just the natural growth that everyone goes through; I recognize her, yes, but the expression she has on seems foreign to her face.

I bring the picture closer to my eyes in a stupid attempt to discover what is it that she sees in him. Even I know that this is the type of person that noone bothers to look twice on the street. As far as I can see, there's nothing distinguishable about him, contrary to Delphine, who maintains all the characteristics that make her the center of attention wherever she goes. Then I give up and hide the picture among the other papers and stuff them back in the folder. Who the fuck knows? Maybe he's a really nice guy or has a stellar sense of humor. I have no way of knowing what it is that Delphine seeks in a life partner. If I didn't know then, I certainly don't know now.

Glancing at the bedside clock I realize that it's time to start packing. A five a.m. flight will be taking us across the Ocean and it's already eleven. As usual we pack light, everything we might need, including clothes will be waiting for us in our safe house, inside the city limits, where our base of operations will be, but only Ms. S will stay permanently. Felix, Sarah and I will be staying in a cottage in the Webster's property, not too far from the main building. At least we'll have some privacy.

I go back downstairs to pick up my computer, abandoned on the table, not surprised to see Sarah and Felix still there, nursing a glass of scotch each. I try not to attract their attention, moving silently, but am not so lucky.

"Hey, Cos!" Sarah calls. "Are you gonna tell us what happened between you and the hot French chick?"

"We went to school together." I say, trying to kill the subject. "That was all!"

"Then why did you become all white when you saw her picture?" Felix says with a laugh. "I swear it was like you saw a ghost."

"I was just surprised, okay!" I raise my voice and I know that it immediately gives me away; it's a rare occasion.

Sarah raises her hands as if she's surrendering and shakes her head. "Fuck! Okay… We won't ask about your girlfriend again." Then she breaks in laugh, quickly joined by Felix.

I breathe out but don't say another word, knowing that it will only make matters worse. Instead I get what I came for and head back to my room and once I have everything ready, I drop the computer case and a small bag by the front door, to save time in the morning. Sarah and Felix are also getting themselves ready and I can hear them moving around in their bedrooms. I move to the bathroom before any of them gets there first and take a quick shower.

I've never experienced any kind of anxiety before the missions, the exception was my first, more due to fear of the unknown than because I thought I wouldn't be able to achieve the result Ms. S asked of me. But not tonight. The entire house is quiet, the others seem to be sleeping after a few agitated words and there's no reason for me not to be able to sleep. I think of this in a rational way, of course, becoming an expert in ignoring the emotional aspect of my brain.

Today I can't. I get up and move to the window, opening it. The brisk wind making me shiver, even with a large sweatshirt, the continuous rain that falls and that so often provides for a perfect soundtrack to attract sleep hitting the concrete pavement with such violence that one would be tempted to believe it can crack it. But at least the wind is blowing the opposite direction, preventing the raindrops from getting inside. Next I go to the bedside table and take one of the joints I have rolled beforehand, putting it between my lips, while at the same time feeling unable to avoid looking at the corner of a paper that once was white but with time and use has gained a yellowish color.

I've never thought about the reason why my subconscious decided that it was a good idea to put Delphine's drawing in the same drawer I keep my weed. Quite honestly I think I'd rather not get into it, but I always find it interesting that every time I feel like smoking I get a glimpse of it. However this time I take it out and look at it while I light up, sitting on the windowsill of my bedroom.

She did have some talent. Even today I can see it in the delicate lines she so carefully drew and wonder if Delphine still spends her free time drawing. Does she still doodle in the corners of her books when she is bored? Or was it something she grew out off? I pass my fingertips over the thin lines and closing my eyes feel them like a blind person reading braille. I've spend so many hours looking at it that I'm certain that, if I had any art inclination, I could recreate it perfectly.

It's three in the morning when we're opening the door to Ms. S, none of us appearing to have had enough sleep, but there will be time for that during the flight. She will come with us, but as soon as we touch American soil, we'll be on our own; with communications limited strictly to the necessary. Preferably, contact is to be initiated by her.

"You lot look like zombies…" She comments upon seeing our faces.

"Surprisingly so…" Felix says, barely opening his eyes.

"There's no rest for the wicked!" Ms. S jokes, opening the door for us to pass carrying our luggage.


	5. Blame It On My Youth

The following week Delphine did bring snacks, gummy bears to be precise. Even when I thought she would start to avoid the place by the lake on my account, since she continued to act like nothing happened, and even when I had all but forgotten about her promise. However, the moment I saw her I also saw a bag flying my way and had to fumble with it a couple of times before it was secure in my hands.

 

"Next week is your turn." She said, her bright eyes looking up to me from the ground from where she was sitting under the tree.

 

"Any requests?" I asked between chuckles and sitting next to her, but still far enough so she didn't feel like I was invading her personal space.

 

Delphine gave me an open smile. "Something with chocolate would be good."

 

"Hmm… I'll see what I can do." I commented, opening the package of sweets and bringing one to my mouth.

 

We stayed quiet for some time, the bag of gummy bears in my hand occasionally getting attacked by Delphine, but she was focused on her drawing. My eyes looking straight ahead, afraid that once I allowed myself to move them to her I'd be caught staring, because I just know that there was nothing that would made me stop looking at her. When I got tired of seeing the same thing, my eyes went to her pad and I noticed that Delphine's was not drawing the sight in front of us, but what looked like a plain with a river crossing through the middle of it. I could almost see the hundreds of greens coloring the place and the clear blues of the running river.

 

"That's nice." I said, my finger moving to tap on it with a hollow sound.

 

Delphine raised her head, looking at me and I wasn't able to resist any longer in meeting her stare. "Too bad it doesn't have enough color, right?" She bantered, with a raised brow.

 

"No… no… I can see past it." The tension on my shoulders relaxed a little and I could feel myself breathe easier in her presence. "What is it?"

 

Delphine hesitated for half a heartbeat before she looked straight ahead and answered. "When I was just a kid I used to spend the entire summer with my grand-mère while my mother was still working. I lived in the city, you see…" She talked like she was in some sort of trance, her eyes unmoving, her face showing just a hint of a smile. "But during the three summer months, this was the view I had from my bedroom window."

 

"It looks lovely." I said, my eyes going back to the picture. "Do you still go there?"

 

Delphine's head turned quickly and she stared straight into my eyes, her face seemed carved in stone, expressionless. "Non!" She replied curtly.

 

Surprised by her sudden change in mood, I raised my hands and waved them. "Whoa… Sorry… I just…"

 

"Non, non… It's fine." Delphine assured me, but she seemed everything but fine as she closed her sketchbook a little more forcefully than necessary and was quick to return it to her bag.

 

Startled, I began to feel an unexpected rush of desperation. "Did I say something wrong? I was just curious." I tried to explain myself.

 

"It's okay, Cosima, really…" She said in a calmer tone, her hand raising for a brief moment and moving in my direction, before she let it drop without making any contact.

 

I swallowed the lump fast forming in my throat, feeling my cheeks heating up. "Alright." My voice came out husky, but I nodded, hoping she could sense I wouldn't press the issue. "You're not leaving, are you?" The question abruptly voiced and I immediately regretted it.

 

If Delphine noticed the eagerness barely hidden in my words, she showed no sign of it. "Why would I do that?" She asked, just before she turned around and opened a small compartment on her bag.

 

I quirked up a corner of my lips. "I dunno…" I murmured with a shrug, trying to play it cool, but it was too late for that.

 

My eyes were glued to her, like I suspected, the moment I looked at her I found myself unable to see anything else. Delphine didn't seem to feel moved by it - in any direction - she just carried out her fluid motions, holding a pack of cigarettes and smoothly putting one between her lips. All graceful movements as she lit it up and slowly expelled the smoke. Next I see her lay back on the ground, adjusting a coat she had close under her head for comfort.

 

Delphine closed her eyes and the remaining tension from earlier seemed to release with every drag she took. I found myself hypnotized by the way the sun reflected in her golden ringlets, the fairness of her skin taking on a warmth that I attributed to the heat from the sun.

 

Delphine's not cold, not arrogant as I heard whispered along the school hallways. If she came across as such, it was more likely due to her reserved nature. The notion that she was a girl of few words found shape in my mind. What she thought, felt, she kept to herself, only expressing them when absolutely necessary. She was probably very good at obtaining what she wanted from everyone else with little disclosure of her true self. She certainly never found any difficulty in having people move to her periphery, especially of the male variety.

 

That made it easier to understand why the other girls in school talked so viciously about Delphine behind her back; the beautiful French girl, with so little effort, could get what other girls struggled so hard to get. She seemed to have an innate magnetism.

 

Before the impulse to do something really stupid took over me, I followed her example and extended myself on the soft grass, stretching my limbs with a groan and then tucking my arms under my head to serve as a pillow. I looked up at the blue sky, the occasional white cloud and wind breeze sending shivers down my spine and raising goosebumps on my skin. The day was not nearly warm enough to be comfortably outside without moving, but damn if the idea of leaving even crossed my mind.

 

Next to me, I felt Delphine move and I looked at her with a lazy expression. She stubbed out the cigarette on the grass and dragged her purse close to herself without getting up. I watched her unzip a hidden pocket inside of it and take a small plastic bag from it, where she dropped the cigarette butt in. I couldn't help but laugh at the extent she had gone through not to be caught smoking.

 

"Laugh all you want." She said, looking down at me with a serious face. "They're onto to the smokers. Apparently they've been finding butts all over the place and I'm not talking about tobacco either."

 

"Wow… really?" I choked. "How… how do you know that?"

 

The guilt must've been written on my face, since Delphine started to shake her head slowly as she settled back down.

 

"Just… don't get caught." She advised, but there was a little smile on her lips.

 

There were no gummy bears left in the bag and the sun was already so low that there were only shadows around us. The little shivers had stopped and I was undeniably cold. Still, when I noticed Delphine sitting up and pulling the bag to her shoulder, I had no desire to go anywhere.

 

"Don't forget the snacks!" She said as a goodbye.

 

I sat up and looked at her as she gazed along the horizon. "Something with chocolate, right?"

 

She looked down at me with a small smile and a short nod, her eyes somehow still catching the last rays of sun. She turned to leave and I allowed my eyes to follow her until I could no longer see her slender form.

 

That night when I got back to my dorm I felt like my head was swimming, like I'd just smoked a entire joint on my own. Everything seemed brighter, happier somehow. Every little thing brought a stupid grin to my lips. I knew it was dangerous to think of it that way, but the spark of hope had ignited in my chest and there was nothing that could dampen it, not even my roommate's annoying comments.

 

It might have been a ridiculous hope that caused me to see things that weren't there, but the next few days saw unexpected changes. Delphine and I still never talked in public, never got close enough to chat. However, when she caught me looking at her - and it was not few times - she was slow to glance away from me, at times I could swear I saw a little smile on her lips as she looked away. More amazing were the occasions when I found Delphine's eyes already on me. Although, when this was the case, she was quickly to turn her head the other way.

 

It was on one of these occasions, when my reaction was to chuckle to myself, that my only friend finally noticed.

 

"What are you laughing about?" Scott asked, turning his head around to where I had a perfection vision of Delphine.

 

"Could you be any less discreet?" I joked and got back to the meal in front of me.

 

He looked seriously at me. "What are you up to, Cosima?"

 

"Nothing." I replied. "You better finish your lunch before we have to go."

 

The next time he looked he was more guarded - barely - but used his time well.

 

"Oh, please, Cos!" Scott rolled his eyes when he was facing me again. "Delphine fucking Cormier? You're dreaming!"

 

"Hush! Jeez dude! Do you want everyone to hear you?" I reprimanded, but there was really no need. We always had our meals alone, no one choosing to sit with us.

 

Although the reasons for people staying away from me were rather obvious, I never really understood why Scott was such a loner. Sure, he was quirky and didn't have the good looks teen girls dream about, but he was a caring soul, genuinely a nice guy and had a killer sense of humor, albeit a little weird. Even though girls would never be competing with each other to have his attention, Scott was a great acquisition as a friend.

 

"What? Are you afraid that if someone hears me they'll think you've completely lost it?" He whispered, leaning forward on the table.

 

"Oh… c'mon… It can't be that impossible!" I said with a raised brow.

 

"Are you kidding me?" He chuckled. "She's a freaking man-eater!"

 

My loud laugh would catch people's attention if everyone weren't so practiced in ignoring me. "A man-eater?!"

 

"You wouldn't be laughing if you've heard what I did." Scott said, just before he brought the fork with a piece of tomato to his mouth.

 

"I'm not interested in locker-room talk." I said, but unable to keep the unevenness from my voice. "Guys are full of shit!"

 

He twisted his lips in annoyance. "Thanks a lot!"

 

"Oh, shit… Sorry Scotty!" I tried to appease him. "But c'mon, present company excluded, your species are known to… exaggerate their conquests."

 

"Okay…" He gave a small nod. "But I'm just telling you that Delphine… well… she's been around… a lot!"

 

I didn't want to admit it, but Scott's words lingered in my mind for a long time. Even as I walked to meet Delphine at our usual spot, they danced in my head, trapped there with no place to go. I knew Delphine had a reputation among girls. They like to gossip, especially when it comes to bringing down someone they see as competition, but I never thought about what guys said about her.

 

The blonde beauty had collected an impressive number of ex-boyfriends and I imagine that guys talked between each other the same way girls do. And although Delphine had been quite… calm in the boyfriend department since the beginning of the school year, the previous year was not that long ago. She had a history that wouldn't be easily forgotten.

 

Reaching the area, my heart sank and my mind went blank. My eyes automatically went to the bottom of the tree, only to find it disturbingly vacant. The bag of chocolate deliciousness dangling in my hand as I stared with unblinking eyes to the place I'd expected to see Delphine deeply immersed in her drawing.

 

"Are those M&M's?" Her voice coming from the direction of the lake.

 

I turned to find her sitting by the lake, bare feet dangling in the water. "Huh?" My eyes went to the bag and I cleared my throat. "Yeah…" I raised my head at her, along with my arm that carried the treats. "Hope you're not allergic to peanuts." I awkwardly added.

 

Delphine laughed lightly. "Non… fortunately not." She motioned with her hand, calling me closer. "Give it here!"

 

My grin grew. "Eager much?" I said, but took the few steps to join her. "So… no drawing today?"

 

She shook her head, "Nope!" Delphine opened the bag I handed her and took a few of the peanut covered chocolates. "Would you please sit down!" She said with a trace of annoyance in her voice before she carefully put one of the candy in her mouth.

 

"Right… hovering… sorry." I moved the shoes she had next to her to the side and sat down, pulling my knees close to my chest and wrapping my arms around them.

 

Delphine frowned her brows. "Aren't you going to join me?" She asked, eyes going from me to her feet that she used to make a little splash.

 

"It's freaking cold!" I exclaimed, once again catching myself in awe with how much I liked see her doing a little pout. "There's no way I'm taking my shoes off and sink my precious feet in that freezing water."

 

She laughed deeply. "Is not that cold! The water is warmer than the air, actually."

 

I took a couple of the M&M's from the bright yellow package and eyed her feet suspiciously eating the candy slowly. "Nope!" I decided. "Not gonna do it."

 

"I expected you to be a little braver than that." She teased, leaning forward and sinking her hand in the water briefly. "Being a pot smoking rebel…"

 

I knew what she was planning to do even before she raised the hand in my direction, but found myself unable to stop her from scattering a few droplets of water down my back.

 

"Fuck!" I let out, my arm going up to catch hers by the wrist. "I thought you said it was not that cold!"

 

"Ohhh… don't be such a wuss!"

 

Delphine's laugh echoed in my body, vibrated inside me until it reached every fiber, the mischief dancing in the bright hazel eyes robbed me of all the air in my lungs. My expression quickly going from playful to intense didn't go unnoticed and Delphine cleared her throat, with a little twist of her arm she released it from my grasp and she moved a few inches away.

 

An awkward silence grew between us only broken when one of us went to the bag of chocolates. It made me nervous. I was afraid I'd screwed up and there wouldn't be a next time, that Delphine wouldn't want to meet up with me anymore, or that she was thinking that everything people told her about me was true. I was too weird to hang out with, she shouldn't want to spend time with me.

 

Maybe I should said I was sorry for… for what? As far as I could tell I had done nothing wrong. What the hell? It was not my fault I found her so freaking irresistible and she did nothing to make me believe I was making her uncomfortable. After all, by then she should've known that I was sorta… interested in her, right? Delphine had caught me staring numerous times and my… predisposition was well known among everyone.

 

"Maybe I should go." She said after at least ten minutes of silence.

 

I looked at her, her stare fixed on the small lake, my eyes not leaving her the whole time, my mind racing to say something that would make her stay. Two minutes without saying anything had Delphine reaching for her bag.

 

"Wait, Delphine!" I called, my hand daringly shooting up to hold her by the wrist.

 

Delphine's stared first at me, then to the hand preventing her from going anywhere. After a brief stop at my lips, her eyes rose slowly to meet mine again as she bit her lower lip, her face locked in an expression between confusion and fear.

 

With surprising grace, I raised myself until my lips reached hers. Caught by surprise, Delphine didn't move at first, but then, with a thrill raising in my chest, I felt her lips move against mine, returning my kiss, softly, slowly, tentatively but still there.

 

The fact that she's not slapped me was all it took for me to grew more confident. My other hand cradled the back of her neck and pulled her to me. The eagerness that had build up in the last weeks bursting at the seams, I pushed myself to her, my mouth seeking more to taste, moving from the bottom to her upper lip. Chocolate and cigarettes will always be something I'd associate with her. I mistook her hand softly landing on my shoulder as encouragement and moved my hand up to fist her blonde curls.

 

That was when Delphine pushed me away, the hand on my shoulder applied a little more force, while the other moved up to her lips, covering her mouth.

 

Shocked. That's the only word that crossed my mind as I saw her quickly gathering her things, picking up her bag and swing it over her shoulder, the shoes on her hand, she didn't even bother to put them on before she started to walk away in a fast pace.

 

"Shit, Delphine!" I said loud. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

 

Useless. She was long gone, hidden by the trees.

 

 


	6. Touch Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: this chapter is a tad too descriptive for which I'm sorry. But to make it up to you I've added just a bit of Cophine at the end that I was actually planning to put only in the next time we get back to the present.
> 
> Thanks to cophine for working super fast :D

The entire flight my companions slept, the exhaustion we all felt easily pulling at their eyelids and sending them into a deep unconscious state. Unfortunately, in my case, the anxiety I feel is much stronger than tiredness and I spend the entire journey in an annoying vigil; my eyes closed, body still, my mind in constant work.

I shouldn't be feeling like this. What I should do is face this job like any other. Delphine is a stranger to me after all. Everything we had is in the past. Never forgotten; there is always a piece of me that refuses to let her go, but in the past nonetheless. And it has been so long since that it shouldn't really bother me anymore. Time heals everything, doesn't it? It should help to let go, even if only gradually, until there's nothing left other than fond memories that sometimes you find yourself revisiting with a distant smile or with a slight heavy heart.

However, Delphine's mark never really healed. It closed with the pass of time, got less visible. If I dared give it a closer look, I could still see it there, branded and when I allow it, even aching a little. I never bothered to analyze it further, never deemed it necessary, just learned to live with it. But then again, I never thought I would be in this position. Never contemplated the possibility of somewhat voluntarily, flying across an ocean to meet her.

When I turned my back on that heavy iron gate and got in S's car, she told me: " _All_ _that is behind you now",_ and while I don't think she knew the extent of her words at the time, I vowed to myself that they would be applied to everything in my life until that point. And, with that kind of soreness that only young minds allow, I truly believed I would be able to make it. Until now. Until I find my past catching up to me in an unpredictable and inescapable way.

"It will be okay." Ms. S, next to me, seems to sense my unrest and places her hand softly on mine as she says the assuring words.

I look at her. "How do you know about her?" I ask quietly.

"I know more than you might think." Is her answer and she's not saying anything I don't already know.

"When you took the job…" I start but she cuts me off.

"I didn't know at first, Cosima." She breaths out, shaking her head and keeping her voice low. The siblings on the seats in front of us are just waking up, but they don't miss much and Ms. S seems as interested as I am in keeping this quiet, although her reasons, whatever they are, are certainly not the same as mine.

"Then how did you find out?" I ask, because a little part of me will be relieved to know that the leak is not on my end.

"It was easy to learn you attended the same boarding school at the same time." Ms. S then opens a small smile. "It was your reaction to her that gave you away, actually."

"And you still want me to do this job?" I ask confused and with a heavy heart, unable to shake the disappointment that follows her telling me that it was me who caused her to know.

"It was a long time ago." She looks careful at me. "I thought it didn't matter."

"And it doesn't!" I say with a lot more conviction than what I'm feeling.

Ms. S gives a firm nod and her eyes go to Sarah and Felix in front of us. I'm not sure if she takes my word for it. We have all have become such experts in hiding our true emotions, that half the time I don't know if I should believe any of them when we're talking about our private lives - what little we have away from each other. Ms. S lets us disappear at least twice a year for no longer than two weeks and we don't have to give her any information about where we're going or what we do. I've always suspected that she knows; that she's aware of our aliases. It wouldn't be hard for her to track us down if she chose, not with her network of informants. Either way, it is enough to give the three of us the brief notion of freedom, no matter that it's an illusion.

The seatbelt sign illuminates and Ms. S round us up to give her last instructions before we part. "Alright! I want this clean, no messing around or improvisations." This she says looking steadily at Sarah, who snorts but she ignores the little display of rebellion. "Your first job is to integrate, do the work you were hired for until further instructions."

"It'll be fun to see Fee try to achieve that." Sarah can't hold herself, earning an ugly look for Ms. S.

"I can take anyone down." He says annoyed.

"You can!" Sarah agrees. "If said anyone is of the male persuasion and there's a bed nearby."

He swats her arm, but I can see that he's not upset at all. "Hey! No bed required."

"Shut your gob!" Ms. S scolds, unable to hide a quick smile. "Okay!" She clears her throat. "If you've read the briefs you'll know that each of you will have a weekly day off and I don't care what you do with your free time, as long as you stop by the safe house first thing to see if there's any news. Got it?"

We all nod our agreement and take off our seat belts as the sign turns off.

"Be safe." She gets up and gives one last hug to each of us. "And stay out of trouble!" The last thing she says loud enough for all of us to hear, but I feel her eyes steady on me.

For the sake of keeping things simple with a potentially extended mission we all kept our first names, although the two brits will be Jones and they will pose as real siblings. I'll still be Niehaus and while I don't like the idea of everyone knowing my real name, it is a necessity.

Those are the names we see scribbled on a cardboard sign being held by a man waiting for us by the gate. As soon as we leave the plane we've lost sight of Ms. S, but she has informed us that she would be sending someone to drive us to our destination. So, while the day has yet to fully emerge, the sky still dark but the smell of morning already floating around us, we are lead to a van that has everything we'll need, when it comes to clothes, to last us for at least two weeks. The bags we carry contain nothing more than our computers, a few toiletries and, at least in my case, underwear.

The ride is quiet, the three of us stuffed in the backseat, with me in the middle assuring a peaceful trip. Our driver also says very little, merely informing us that it will take thirty minutes to reach the Webster's residence. However, as soon as we leave the city he takes us off the freeway, driving slowly along roads with little or no traffic, bordered by large estates and century old homes. It doesn't take much guessing to know that money in this part of the world is not among the main concerns of the people who can afford to live here.

It takes us close to an hour driving in a scarcely lit road for the driver - who fails to give us his name - to turn left and we enter a dirt road with no lights whatsoever, although by now the sun is fully raised. Two minutes bumping inside the van and we reach a big gate, surrounded by tall, brick walls. I can only assume that we're being expected, because, without hesitation, the massive gates open with a mechanical noise.

There's no guardhouse at the entrance, but two cameras, one on each end of the wall, record our every movement. I remember the blueprint and know that it will take at least a minute slowly driving along a brick road for us to reach the main building.

"Fuck, it's cold!" Sarah says the moment we leave the air-conditioned van, stuffing the hands in her pockets.

I elbow her ribs and she looks to me with clear intentions to protest, but swallows it down once her eyes follow my steady gaze in front of us, where a man in his sixties is looking at us with a raised brow under the pale light of a lamp set on top of the main door. I hear the van drive away, our bags left abandoned on the ground close to us.

"What the hell!?" Felix says, his head turned back just in time to see the van disappear.

"Anyone else has a bad feeling about this?" I can't help but whisper at my companions, only the fog that our words produce indicate that we are speaking among each other.

"Yeah…" Sarah says. "This looks like the start of a horror movie."

Felix and I chuckle, but a low cough makes us stop as we notice the man who's been standing by the door approach us.

"Welcome." He says in a far too impeccable British accent to be believable. "I'm Alfred and I'm the chief of staff."

"That's Cosima, Felix and I'm Sarah." She introduces us aiming her hand in our direction as she goes. "I guess you've been expecting us."

Alfred gives a curt nod and starts to walk away. "Follow me, please."

The three of us gather our bags and struggle to keep up with our guide. It takes several moments to catch up with him as we drag our luggage through the thick fog, the sun rising to burn it away.

With an annoyed expression he stands by a door of a single story house. "These will be your quarters." He says, extending a set of keys to each, forcing us to put our bags down to accept them. "The main gate can only be opened from the inside and in order for you to enter the main building you should use the service door on the back that leads to the kitchen. While that door is always left unlocked during working hours, is befitting your position to knock and wait for someone to let you in."

"What if there's no one there to open the door?" Sarah's patience for his ill manner is running out and anyone could sense it by her tone.

"Then you shouldn't enter." He simply states, not feeling intimidated in the least. "You'll have two hours to settle in, after which I'll be expecting you." Are his last words before he takes his leave.

"What the actual fuck?!" Felix says aloud once we're alone. "Where would he be expecting us?"

"By the service door, of course." I say, impersonating the man's accent and moving forward to open the door.

"Hell of a reception…" Sarah scoffs, grabbing a few bags and following me inside.

"I think I know Mr. Webster's secret." Felix comments moving a couple of suitcases. "He's batman!"

"What are you talking about?" I say with a chuckle, bringing the last of the bags inside and shutting the door behind me.

"Oh c'mon geek!" He continues. "A rich fuck with a gigantic Manor and a butler named Alfred."

Still laughing I finally manage to find the light switch and turn it on, casting a discreet, pale light on what appears to be the living room. "Ohhh not a butler, a chief of staff!" I comment.

The room is not big, but the space is well used, dominated by chocolate colors giving it a cozy appearance. Two caramel couches and a recliner take a big part of the room, a good size flat-screen TV is attached to one of the walls. There's also a mahogany table, not large, but enough to have four chairs around it, a bookshelf completely empty close to it. Between the two sofas there's a small table which we can move around as we please. Heavy brown curtains help to give the space a comfortable aspect.

"Not bad digs…" Sarah says and all but throws herself onto one of the couches.

I shake my head and walk to a door close to the dining table, not surprised to find the kitchen, all the appliances we could possibly need are available. Opening and closing the cabinets' doors and drawers I see that there's nothing missing: dishes, silverware and a variety of glasses are neatly stored. The double door fridge is also well stacked, I'm pleased to notice.

"Whoa… We don't have to shop for a while." I say loud and am immediately joined by the two of them.

They go over the kitchen the same way I did and when they're done have an equally large smile on their faces.

"No alcohol though." Felix notices.

"We're not exactly on vacation here, Fee." I say chuckling and moving to see what else we have.

There are four bedrooms, all the same. A big enough bed to sleep comfortably with two bedside tables and a lamp on top of each, a wardrobe, a vanity and a low bookshelf. I move quickly to set my things in the one at the very end of the hall, for two reasons: it's the one furthest from the bathroom and it will be the first to catch the morning sun. The window is opened to nothing but a green field, the fog lifting up allowing me to see trees far away.

"Do you think they expect us to cook?" Sarah asks from the bedroom door, where I'm starting to unpack, putting a few pants in the closet.

"I don't know, but I'm sure Alfred will bring us up to speed when we meet." I answer.

"Is Cormier gonna be a problem?" She abruptly asks.

I stop what I'm doing to look at her, Sarah's stare fixed on me. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not sure." She gives a few steps inside and sits on the edge of the bed, her eyes not leaving me, searching for an answer she knows I won't give her. "For starters you've been awfully quiet and that makes me nervous. I'm thinking she might be an additional distraction."

"I'm just tired, Sarah." I quickly say. "I haven't slept much."

She nods but is clearly not convinced by my explanation. "And there's also the little issue that she knows you…"

"Knew me!" I correct her. "Delphine knew me. I haven't seen her in longer than I care to think about."

"So… She's not gonna be a problem." Sarah pushes and I can still feel her eyes on my back as I place shirts in a drawer. "You're not gonna be blinded by the hot Frenchie."

I turn around and meet her stare with steady eyes. "No more than I would be by any other good looking woman." I say, trying to lighten the conversation.

Rolling her eyes and laughing, Sarah lets herself fall on the bed. "Oh Cos… I really hope you're a better liar than that when it's time to get to work."

I shrug and give her an ugly look but don't try to change her mind. I know it would be useless. If there's anything we have in common is our stubbornness. Instead I take the small bag of toiletries and move to the bathroom, knowing that we have more than enough towels at our disposal by the short stop I've made there earlier.

The hot shower helps to rid me of the tiredness and by time the other two have finished, it's time for us to meet Alfred. Like he said, he's waiting for us by the back door, pleased to see that we've understood where we were supposed to meet him.

He gives us a small tour of the lower floor and refers to upstairs as  _the private quarters_ of the family with an expression that makes it obvious that we're not meant to go there. Meanwhile we can sense the house awakening; hearing movement on the second floor, with doors opening and closing. Two middle age women are busy setting the table in the dining room for breakfast. As we pass them Alfred informs us that we will normally have our meals in our "house", and that we should deliver a list of everything we need each Tuesday. Constance, one of the maids that he introduces as she reemerges from the kitchen will take care of our shopping needs. She's carrying two baskets filled with freshly baked bread, which we're told will also be delivered to us daily.

Before any of the inhabitants of the house make their way downstairs, he guides us outside. Pointing out the pool, which is covered and most likely freezing, and the two tennis courts. In the distance he indicates the stables that at the moment accommodate two stallions. While these are familiar, we discover a new addition: the gym is a recent construction in steel and glass by the swimming pool and is equipped with anything that " _Mr. Jones might find necessary to perform his duties"_ \- at which Sarah snorts, earning a raised eyebrow from Alfred.

What really catches our eyes though it's what he calls  _the security building._ Reaching it, I notice that this construction, while obviously not going back to the time of the main building, is from at least the same time as the cottage we're staying in, is not on the plans we have. The building is quite large and it consists of two distinct areas. The smaller zone, where a security guard monitors the cameras spread throughout the property - I count at least five but am sure there are more - and an armory. A wall covered in handguns and a few shotguns -  _for Mr. Webster's hunting trips_ \- and an indoor shooting range. This will be Sarah's domain and by the sparkle in her eyes I can see that she's very pleased.

"Exactly what sort of trouble should we be expecting?" She asks, her eyes raking the variety of handguns at her disposal.

Alfred stares at her with a displeased frown. "Honestly, I don't even know why Mr. Webster insisted on hiring you." He quickly turns and starts to walk away. "We've never had any sort of problems until now and I don't expect us to have any in the future."

We follow him outside with a clear notion that our hiring might have created some tension in the rest of the staff.

"As for you, Ms. Niehaus," his calm voice catches my attention, "you should report to Mr. Webster, who will inform you of what is required from you."

"So, we'll finally be meeting our employer?" Felix says, walking next to the older man, as Sarah and I are just behind them.

"Oh, certainly. I suppose he's already expecting you." Alfred answers. "But Ms. Niehaus will be at the orders of his eldest son. He's the one responsible for the security team and was the one who's insisted on hiring you."

In the corner of my eye I see Sarah smirking at me and even Felix bothers to look back and give me an open smile. I try to maintain my steps steady so they don't keep up with my racing mind. Although that is not entirely due to the fact that apparently I'll be working directly under Delphine's fiancé's supervision, but because of the little piece of information Alfred has inadvertently given us.

From the beginning I suspected that someone inside Henry Webster's organization has moved some strings to put us inside. Of course I've entertained the idea that it had to be someone close to the big boss, however it never occurred to me that person could be his own son. Obviously I could be wrong and, more importantly, I really don't know what it means; not until I know what's the purpose of having us here. But the fact that we're not exactly your everyday security team is not irrelevant.

This time Alfred lets us in through the front door and we're received by two men I immediately recognize as Henry and Daniel Webster. While the father greets us with a warm yet reserved smile, the son has a closed expression.

"I hope you've found the accommodations to your liking." Henry Webster says after the introductions.

"It's not a bad shed." Felix quips, a bashful smile in the younger Webster's direction.

I roll my eyes as discreetly as I can;  _what is it with that guy?_

"What my brother meant to say is that the accommodations are… agreeable." Sarah says in an uncharacteristically appeasing manner.

Maybe she transforms herself when on a mission, charming everyone. I've never been on a long mission with her, usually is a grab and dash. Her success must come from somewhere, perhaps this is it.

"Ms. Niehaus, we'll be reviewing your responsibilities in the afternoon." Daniels says in a gloomy tone. "It will take quite some time and it will require you to stay focused, which is not compatible with a long flight. So I suggest you to take the time until then to…"

"Oh Daniel, give it a rest, will you?"

I hear her voice before I see her. As far as I can tell, her accent has diluted, only a hint of it left. Taller than I remember, but with the same grace, Delphine makes her way with steady steps down the stairs, to which I have an unobstructed view. I'm already looking at her before her eyes lay on us and immediately her smile goes away and it's replaced by a surprised frown. Her hair presenting the blonde curls I once knew too well, her hazel eyes continue to be able to absorb all the light in the room. As she approaches us I can see the signs of age in the small wrinkles on the corner of her eyes and traces of too many nights with little rest under them.

She's wearing skinny jeans that show how kind the years have been, and tall brown boots with no heel to lessen the height difference between her and her fiancé. A loose cream button up only adding to the illusion that she floats instead of actually walk like a mere mortal.

For a terrifying moment I'm unsure how to react, wondering if she prefers to pretend that we've never met. Thankfully, it doesn't last long.

"Cosima?" She says, squinting a little and it can be just a weird auditory imagination, but the way she says my name sounds exactly same, thick accent and all. "Oh, my God…"

Her startled expression does nothing to clarify if it's a good or a bad surprise. What is clear is that she's not interested in pretending we don't know each other and I find myself, like in the past, incredibly satisfied with this little victory.

"Oh… Hi, Delphine…" I mumble in a low voice, for some mysterious reason unable to meet her stare any longer.

"You two know each other?" Daniel asks confused, his eyes moving between the two of us.

"Oui… hmm… Yes, we attended boarding school together."

I let her handle the explanations. She's the one who has to decide what she wants her boyfriend to know. It's none of my business, I tell myself; we no longer know each other, she has the right to live her life.

It is all true. Yet, the second I see Daniel's arm go around her waist, possessively pulling Delphine to him, I feel the anger rise in my chest. The sudden surge of jealousy making an unwanted appearance. I swallow dryly, with my jaw set and ball my fists at the side of my body for some semblance of control.

"Oh… Then perhaps you can assist me in some other matter." The young Webster smiles for the first time since we've arrived.

My eyes refocus on him. "Like what?" I ask, unable to keep the rash tone from my words, especially when I see Delphine's hand moving to his shoulder.

He looks adoringly at her. "Delphine is so reserved… I bet you have some stories you can share."

_You have no idea,_ I think, feeling Delphine's uneasy gaze on me, briefly biting her lower lip, a habit that used to tell me she was feeling nervous about something, before she catches herself and stops.

I go for a much more pacifying answer. "We barely knew each other." I say and see Delphine visibly expel a breath she was holding. "She used to hang with the popular crowd. I was never invited." I add, because she shouldn't be feeling so relieved to watch me lying for her benefit.

I should not regret it, that time it was not a lie and she knows it as well as I do. But I see her eyes sadden and it still has the same effect it always did. My heart sinks and the uncomfortable heaviness of guilt grows in my stomach.

Incapable of reading the shift in the mood that settled between us, Daniel lays small peck on her cheek and chuckles softly. "I believe you. Delphine has a way with people."

She flinched almost imperceptibly at his words and I have to smirk. "That she does." I agree, nodding.


	7. Mind Trick

Before what happened between us, Delphine was never cold to me. Distant and unattainable yes; but never cold. Her beautiful hazel eyes had never made me feel unwelcome, nor had she ever reacted when she caught my gaze upon her. But after I kissed her by the lake, I started to feel Delphine's eyes on me, not in a way that told me she was perhaps curious, that maybe she wanted to know a little more, but in a way that was clearly meant to tell me she wanted me to stay away.

Not only that. The Monday after our last meeting, in the first break, somehow she already had a guy attached to her. PDA was extremely restricted in the courtyard under the scrutinizing eyes of the school's sisters, but that didn't stop the couples from... establishing their domain the same way that Rob - Delphine's most recent acquisition - was when my eyes found them. Sitting right next to her, not a single puff of air could make its way between them, his hand affectionately and possessively placed just above the her knee while he talked and she nodded with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Sat atop of one of the many stone tables, with my feet on what was meant to be the bench, I felt my hand involuntarily grip the edge of the cold table and clenching hard.

"I hate to say this", Scott's voice behind me, "but I told you so."

I turned my head in his direction and followed him with my stare until he sat next to my feet, his back resting against the edge of the table, his elbows coming to rest on top of the table, brushing my thigh. "Yeah, you did..." I answered him, but my eyes went back to the blonde and I felt the knife that had found a refuge in my chest twisting a little more when Rob, after looking around to make sure none of the sisters were watching, planted a kiss on Delphine's cheek.

"I thought she was different, you know?" My eyes back on my friend.

"Why!?" Scott asked confused, his head turned my way with eyebrows raised over the frame of his glasses.

I never told him about my meetings with the French girl and I wasn't about to start then. So, I just shrugged, "I just did."

He breathed out deeply. "Listen... I'm not telling you that there aren't some girls here you can't... persuade to your ways", he said in a tone that was meant to sooth me, but only made me feel worse, "but Delphine?... She's just not like that..."

"You know her that well, do you?" The uncharacteristic edge in my voice made him look at me with wide open eyes and I immediately regretted the harshness of my words. To give him some comfort I lightly tapped my hand on his shoulder a couple of times. "Sorry, man... It's not you."

He nodded, easily accepting my weak apologies. "I just don't want you to fixate, Cosima." His chin pointing at the other end of the courtyard, "you should look elsewhere."

I quickly jumped off the table, "I don't want other girls, Scott!" I said frustrated, not with him, but with myself, his words hitting the right nerve. "It's her I want!"

Unsurprisingly, when I returned to the lake, Delphine was nowhere to be seen. I sat under the tree, in a space that I had just began to think as hers, but as fast as it was set in my mind it vanished. My eyes were fixed straight ahead, but my thoughts were not present.

I wondered what I did wrong. In my mind I was sure I didn't misinterpret Delphine's actions, although that might have been because I was terribly biased. I wanted so much for it to be real that I refused to see through it. She always acted so... natural around me; never failed to give me the impression that my fortuitous presence in her life was something she not only considered welcome but, like myself, she saw it as something to look forward to. A pleasant culmination to another monotonous week in school.

I did think she was different and, as much as I hated to admit, even then I still did. Despite the fact that she showed up with yet another boyfriend, it didn't change my opinion about that. And why should it? In a way, the few hours we spent together once a week it was like we were allowed to be something else, something we never showed anyone else, something a little more like ourselves. Maybe it was foolish to think that, we didn't spend that long together, but regardless it never ceased to amaze me how easily I began to anticipate that little bit of time.

It a was completely different thing to observe her from afar, to watch her with furtive glances as she interacted with others and being able to see her up close, freely, without the impulse to quickly look away when I felt her eyes - or anyone else's - on me. Perhaps that's what I would miss the most; the freedom that being alone with Delphine and with her unspoken permission to observe her every move, see an expression in her face that didn't resemble any other that I've seen in her when she was surrounded by the parade of people who usually flocked to her. It was probably just that. Delphine was never alone, maybe she came to the lake to enjoy a moment of solitude and she figured if, in order to get that, she had to share that moment with me, she was gonna suck it up. And me, in temporary blindness, saw in it something else, imagined my own reasons reflected on her.

Either way, it was pointless to overanalyze it. The end result would always be the same. Delphine might still be coming to our meetings if I hadn't let my... natural instincts come into play, but that's something I would never know. One thing is for sure: she was definitely not returning after that.

Eventually, even I stopped going there. Two weeks after it happened, the autumn monsoons started to fall from heavy gray clouds and it was no longer possible to spend hours in the late afternoon outside. Even when it wasn't raining, the grass remained too wet to make for a comfortable seat and the air was too cold to contemplate seeing the sun setting from anywhere else other than the window of my room, with Ruth, my roommate driving me crazy with her non-stop nagging, because I was spending too much time inside and people would start to talk.

Had I the guts then that I have now, I would've told her that she was flattering herself, that I wouldn't want to touch her even if she was begging for it. Perhaps I would even have gathered the courage to tell my obnoxious roommate that I, unlike her, am not about to fuck someone just because they are in the disposition to do so; that I don't understand how a guy, no matter how desperate, is even able to be with her, when just the thought of her makes my stomach queasy. Maybe I would even tell her the biggest truth: that my heart was irreparably owned.

But I didn't and the insecure little girl inside me, that even then I fought so hard to keep tamed prevented me to give her the answers she deserved and took every mean comment with nothing but a raised brow, before looking away with a stream of crass words that never escaped through the mouth.

Christmas was always a time that brought mixed feelings. If for one I was pleased to have the entire campus to myself, apart from the nuns that stayed, it was also a time that made me realize, more than any other, just how alone I was. Although when I was by myself I could deal with it with relative ease, when I was with them I could see the sorrow in their eyes directed at me. The compassion, instead of making me feel better only aggravated me. No matter how young I was, I could easily see the way they looked at me: the poor orphan, with no one to pick her up in that time of the year, no one to spend the season screaming at or be screamed from. I had no one to pretend that I enjoyed every moment with.

Of course I knew something had changed that year, a particular person who I wouldn't mind having around. Even if it was just to see her far away, part of me wished Delphine was still there, I didn't even care if she remained cold towards me, she would still brighten my day. Which was obviously very stupid and childish... but what did you expect from someone who was barely seventeen and believed they were in love?

Unlike so many of the other kids who attended the boarding school, it was a rare occasion for the French to leave for the weekend, she was among those who stayed, perhaps because her family was in France and unable to come all the way to Northern Ireland to pick her up just for a two day thing, at least that's what I thought. At the time I had no idea what it was all about apart from the few comments I heard in passing, I was not included in the gossip newsletter, so...

At least during the breaks I was allowed a little more freedom than usual, I suspect it was due to the sisters feeling sorry for me. In fact I never cared much for it, but was glad to take full advantage of it and every other day I put myself in the bus and headed to the nearest village to spend the entire afternoon. I never did much, usually just walked with no real destination, even the heavy rain, freezing cold or the rare snow didn't stop me from enjoying every little bit of freedom I was given. Sometimes I just sat in a coffee shop, a table next to the window with a book in hand and sipping hot chocolate.

It had been on one of these occasions, perhaps a year before that I became acquainted with Lucy. With no free tables available in the little coffee house, probably because of the pouring rain that caught everyone by surprise, she had asked if I minded her sitting at my table. Maybe she was just bored, being back home for the holidays. Lucy had severed the ties with the people she grew up with when she moved to London to study classic literature two years ago, but the moment her eyes laid on the book in my hands, she scoffed.

I had hardly registered her since she sat, but that made me look at her, finding deep gray eyes with a daring expression moving between me and the book. I really don't remember how it started exactly, but soon she was telling me how depressing Russian classics were, that what the Russians never understood is that the human soul is the most resilient element in the world. She explained that, in her view, the situation of Crime and Punishment, the book in my hands, would never happen because the human being is incapable to feel that kind of remorse, not unless the consequences would directly affect Rodion's life, which obviously was not the case. Lucy kept going and I let her talk, her deep contralto voice and easy speech gradually captivating my attention.

It wasn't until she was apparently finished that I told her I was yet to pass the second chapter. She had laughed and told me to meet her in the same coffee house one week from there, when I would've already finished the book, so we could resume our conversation. I look dubiously at the big volume in my hands, but agreed to her terms.

Not willing to show weakness, I made myself finish the book in a week. Spending all my free time flipping pages of the somewhat confusing novel, I returned the next week to the same place, unsure if she even remembered me at all. But Lucy showed up and like she said we spent the entire afternoon talking about the layers of regret of the human soul. I got so engrossed in the conversation - even if at the end of it I had no idea which arguments I used and was positively more confused than when we started - that when I looked outside the window, the night had fallen and I was tremendously late to catch the bus.

Somehow, Lucy had managed to call the boarding school and persuade them to let her drive me there after dinner.

It was close to midnight and the latest curfew ever when she parked the car not too far from the school's gate and expressed her surprise at the fact that someone like me was attending a place like that. I had simply shrugged, watching her fingers as she quickly rolled a joint. Lucy noticed me observing her and after a few drags had extended it to me without a word.

After that our meetings became regular, every time there's was a break from school, I used the phone in the administration office and we spent the afternoon together. This Christmas was no exception. We'd even exchanged gifts and I was able to restock my weed reserves that I kept hidden behind my shirts in a drawer.

The new year arrived, as usual, with my colleagues flashing their new designer clothes and that year with a novelty: the cellphone. It seemed like everyone brought at least one of these devices, promptly confiscated at the entrance, to be returned every time the student's left the school's premises. And despite the sisters' diligence, I was sure at least a few had passed inspection and life in campus was never gonna be the same.

From the window of my bedroom, thankfully still absent my roommate, I saw her arrive. Delphine was the mirror image of her mother, from the high stature down to the blonde curly hair, which was fortunate, because her father seemed like a weak man. From where I watched, it was not hard to see he was at least a decade older than the woman, short and bulky, his hair white and already scarce on his head. Her mother held Delphine for a short time and gave her two kisses, one on each cheek. The father kept his distance and the only movement he did as a departing gesture was a small nod of his head in Delphine's direction. Probably one of those old school men who only use physical contact when strictly necessary.

The noise of the door opening made me quickly look away and, in a hurry threw myself on my bed. Ruth scolded at me, but, like always, I ignored her and turned on my side, facing the wall. It took me a while to realize that there was a small grin on my lips. It made no difference if Delphine wanted nothing to do with me, just knowing that I would be able to see her again every day brought a stupid smile to my face.

That evening, like every other after a school break, the dorm refused to quiet down, the over excited girls sneaked into each other's bedrooms in order to share their stories and gossip about the news they brought with them. Used to having the entire dorm to myself and accustomed to the quietness after two weeks, the sound of giggles echoing through the walls didn't allow me to sleep, but at least my roommate was among those who were not in their room. So even though I couldn't sleep I could rest, enjoying the precious few moments I had to myself.

The first thing I noticed Monday, the first day back in class, was that Delphine no longer regarded me with a cold stare. In fact, the first time our eyes met she gave me a tight-lipped smile, her eyes not sparkling like before, but it was still a smile, however feeble. The second thing was that she didn't have Rob attached to her arm during the intermission, instead another girl hanged on his arm, while Delphine was in the company of other girls.

"The man-eater strikes again!" Scott said, when he approached me. At the dirty look I gave him he started to shake his hands and placed an apologetic smile. "Joking... I know you like her."

"He doesn't seem particularly heartbroken", I aimed my chin in the guy's direction.

Scott frowned for a short time, before he spoke. "Why should he be?" My friend's gaze moved from me to Rob. "He got what he wanted", he added in a low voice.

My stare went back to Delphine, who continued to talk with the group of girls, apparently completely ignoring the fact that the guy she called boyfriend not that long ago was gently stroking another girl's thigh.

"Yeah... According to him..." I corrected my friend.

"Maybe you should ask her", Scott challenged.

I look at him with a mocked annoyed expression. He knew well I wouldn't do such a thing. Not only didn't I have the courage for it, but I miserably lacked the opportunity. Delphine had made it clear she wanted nothing but distance from me. That was an absolute certainty in my mind, Delphine had made no indication she wanted to change it any time soon and I was not about to risk utter rejection from her.

At least until the end of first critical thinking class of the new semester and the teacher announced that pairs should be formed to present a work at the end of that semester. Convinced I was destined to do the thing by myself, as it had always happened, I didn't even raise my head; just continued to write the assignment in my notebook. Once finished, I began to pack my things, but was stilled when a hand with red merlot painted nails came to rest on top of my table. I glanced up to find Delphine standing in front of me, her unsmiling countenance on my surprised face.

"You're going to be my partner." She said with conviction.

Startled by the suggestion, I struggled to say anything at all. "I... I am?" I finally managed.

"I'm not going to waste 30% of my grade just to be paired with someone else." Her expression remained serious as she explained with her soft voice. "You're the second best, I think we should stay together."

Despite my surprise I was still able to produce a grin. "Second best, huh?" I joked and Delphine firmly nodded, her eyes starting to shine. "You're using me for my grades?"

Finally she allowed her expression to relax a little. "Is that so bad?"

I couldn't contain my chuckle. "Well... It isn't good."


	8. We Don't Know Each Other!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Cophine for being a champ and working overtime.

While I have some time to rest before the meeting with Daniel, my two partners are busy, talking with the people they'll be working directly with. Sarah will lead a team of eight guards and needs to coordinate shifts and their routes immediately. The rest will be done further down the road, but that seems to be the most urgent matter to be taken care of. Felix, on the other hand, is occupied at the gym, taking inventory of what he has and what needs to be acquired in order to train those same men in the arts of physical combat. The way I see it, he got the short end of this mission; he's not completely ignorant about what he has to do - otherwise Ms. S would never put him on it - but he needs to be very careful about what he decides to actively do, mostly he needs to know how to protect himself and I'm not sure he has what it takes.

I go back to the small house where we were settled earlier, eager to get away from them and their predictable questions, as well as to take some time to rest. Daniel might be a snobbish prick, but he had the right thing in mind when he advised me to relax for a while. The long flight and time difference weighs heavily on my eyelids and every part of my body aches. So, I close the blinds on my bedroom and crawl into bed.

It takes a few hours for my mind to shut down, but I am finally able to fall into a deep sleep. It would've been longer, if a knock on the door hadn't woken me up. As it's her habit, Sarah doesn't wait for my answer to enter the room.

"What was that all about?" Her raspy voice asks even before I have the time to blink away the sleep.

"Geez… Sarah!" I complain, my hand blindly reaching for glasses, having a hard time adjusting to the bright light coming through the open door. "What are you talking about?" I ask, groggily.

"Between you and Frenchie!" She clarifies, crossing the room to open the curtains with a swift pull. "I thought you said she wasn't gonna be a problem…"

I groan and pull the pillow to my head. "She's not!" I say loudly.

She huffs. "You're lucky her fiancé is apparently blind to the obvious," Sarah says sarcastically. "Because that's the only reason I find for him not to see that there's more to your history than what she decided to share."

"He didn't see anything because there's nothing to see," I assert as I stomp out of the bedroom.

"Oh my god!" Felix chimes in from the living room. "You've got to be kidding me!"

"What?" I stare sharply at his form casually laid on the couch.

"I swear, for a moment I thought you'd throw a punch at the guy for putting his hands on her." He says, shifting uncomfortably on the couch until his elbows rest on top of his knees and finds my stare piercingly. "You seem to forget she's engaged to him and that you're the third wheel."

My eyes go to Sarah not really expecting to find a different kind of feeling. "If you're gonna have a problem controlling yourself around her, you should let us know now, Cos," she warns in a tone that's not as harsh as Felix's, but she can't hide her concern. "I don't want this mission compromised just because…"

"Stop it! Both of you!" I shout, looking between the two of them. "I don't have a problem controlling myself! I won't compromise a fucking thing!" I continue, stepping close to her. "Do you understand?"

She squints at me. "If this thing goes south because you can't keep it in your pants, Cosima…" Sarah's obviously not intimidated by my tone and lets the threat linger in the air.

I scoff. "Then what?" I walk into dangerous territory, I'm well aware that's ill-advised to antagonize Sarah.

But this time it pays off. She rolls her eyes and steps back. "Just keep your hands off her, got it?"

I hold her gaze for a few seconds, but don't say a word, knowing that if I continue to press my case, it will look like I'm trying too hard. Sarah's the one who breaks the eye contact and turns her back on me. "Good!" She says, as she sits on the couch. "We need to stay focused."

Seeing her calming, my own mind settles. "I know that," I nod, taking one of the armchairs and prompting my feet on top of the low coffee table. "What did you get from the security team?" I ask, eager to divert the attention to a less tense subject and away from me.

"Bunch of twats… all muscle, no brains," Sarah snickers. "However, they're all new. It seems like Mr. Webster wasn't nearly as concerned with security in the big apple."

"And then he moves here and all of the sudden decides to hire a complete security team," Felix comments with a raised brow.

"It was his son's idea," I remind them. "As far as we can tell he's the reason why we're here."

"And you already got a target on his forehead," Sarah scoffs.

"I'm being objective, Sarah," I assert, exasperated. "Alfred said it was Daniel who insisted on hiring us."

"So, it has nothing to do with the fact that he's screwing your high school sweetheart?" She pushes and I can't shake the notion that she's doing it to test my limits, to see how far she can go until I tilt.

"It's a fact!" I state casually. "Who he's screwing is irrelevant."

Sarah has a small smirk and I can see that, at least for now, she'll let this go. "You think he's the one who contacted Ms. S?"

"I can't be sure. He could have asked someone else to do it for him."

"A front man, you mean?" Felix asks, his position slightly more relaxed on the couch, his interest shifting to the conversation. "So his name can't be traced back to Ms. S and to us."

"It's possible," I admit nodding.

"But that doesn't necessarily mean little Dan knows what he hired exactly," Sarah counters. "If he asked someone else to do it for him, then that could be the person interested in having us infiltrated here."

"Okay… lets think," I urge, raising my hands to my head as if that would help me. "Like Fee said, this all thing started after they left New York. I think it would be very helpful if we could figure out why they did that on such sort notice."

"That's not our job, Cos," Felix says, his eyes going from me to Sarah in search of support.

"What is our job?" She responds in an annoyed voice and it seems that at least on this issue, she's with me. "We don't know what we're doing here and I don't know about you, but that bothers me a lot. It's not like S to take this sort of job."

"Well… the way I see it, we've never had a reason not to trust her," Felix says, standing up. "I don't think we should start now. She knows what she's doing."

"That doesn't mean we shouldn't question some things," I go after him and try to convince him, because we need to be on this together.

"We've just arrived, Cosima and you're already jumping to conclusions," he points out, his stare down on mine. "Do you want him to be guilty of something that bad?"

"What the hell, Felix!" I say, startled by his passionate reaction. "I'm just trying to use my head."

"This is the first time Ms. S has included me on a real mission," he snaps at me. "If you throw it all away cause of some piece of French ass, I'll never be able to look you in the face again!" He says testily, stalking to his bedroom and closing the door with a slam.

"He's a drama queen," Sarah says when our eyes meet, "but you know he has a point, right?"

"I understand what's at stake here, Sarah. I'm not about to fuck it up over someone I had a silly crush on years ago, okay?"

She gives a curt nod, her lips thin and straight and at least for now, I think she'll give me the benefit of the doubt, which is good because I'm gonna need an ally to calm brother. Felix may be a drama queen, but he's not entirely wrong. I understand better than anyone how difficult it is to gain Siobhan's trust and how much harder it is to regain it once it's lost. She's not a big fan of giving second chances. More importantly, without her trust, we only get to see the game on the sidelines, which is exactly what happened to Felix all this time. If she had never gave him a main role in a mission, it's because she's doubted his abilities and this is his chance to prove himself worthy.

Also, in the off chance this job doesn't go quite as planned, it won't be only Felix who will suffer the consequences, but Sarah as well. I don't even what to entertain the idea of what will happen to me if I'm the main culprit of a failure.

Felix refuses to join us for lunch, despite our attempts to call him by knocking on his door, and with the third fuck off shouted from inside, we shrug at each other and leave him be. He'll take his time, but I know that eventually Felix will calm down. Even so, the mood remains tense in the house and, while I could easily blame that on the long trip, I know better. But there's not much I can do for now, it will take time for them to realize that I'm not gonna jeopardize everything just because of Delphine. However, I can't help but think that it might've been better if Ms. S had decided to keep me away from this mission the moment she found out Delphine and I shared a past. Or, at the very least, better if Sarah and Felix had never known about it.

When the house phone rings and I pick up to hear Alfred informing that Mr. Webster is waiting for me to join him at the library in ten minutes, I'm actually relieved to have something else to occupy my mind. I'm greeted by low, gray clouds, an almost claustrophobic sky above my head and the air so cold that every breath I take seems capable to freeze my lungs. Still, I take a deep breath, tugging the red coat closer to my chest and start up the path towards the main building.

"Cosima!" I'm almost at the back door when I hear my name being called in a voice that's far too familiar.

I keep walking, ignoring the pull in my gut as I approach the door. But there's no way around it when I feel a hand curling on my upper arm and pushing me away from the door.

"What?" I ask abruptly, turning around to see Delphine taking a surprised step back in response to the harshness of my tone, releasing her grip on my arm.

She's wrapped in a long black coat to ward off the cold, a half smoked cigarette dangling between the fingers of her right hand. Her bright hazel eyes wide, stuck somewhere between confusion and fear as she nervously pulls her lower lip between her teeth. So many years have passed and I can't believe she's still able to plunge my world into havoc, swelling my entire existence.

It was never a silly crush.

I know now as I look at her, the same way I knew when I lied to Sarah with a steady voice.

"Listen, I just wanted…" she starts slowly, her eyes moving to the gravel ground beneath our feet.

"Delphine, you don't need to worry," I interrupt her, my voice losing the roughness but laced with a bitter edge. "I don't plan to… disclose your past to your fiancé."

She raises her head to meet my gaze with a quick snap, her eyes doubling in size. "That's not…" she shakes her head and seems to restart. "Thank you, but…"

"Yeah, I obviously have no intention of interfering with you getting set for life," I add quickly and turn my back on her, wanting to get away as fast as possible before I say even more than I should.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Delphine doesn't quit. She grasps my arm again, tossing her cigarette butt to the ground, and spins me back around, bringing us face to face once more.

I'm surprised by her reaction; this is new. The Delphine I knew always had a strong resolve, but at the same time, she also was quick to retreat in order to prevent unpleasant confrontation. It puts me on edge, more so when I realize that this conflicts with the person I thought she'd become after I first found out where she was, who she was with. I'd assumed she'd become one of the women I remember seeing dropping their daughters at the boarding school: tamed and easily compliant after years of living among the rich and, many times, older husbands. However, looking at the woman standing before me, seeing the obvious defiance in her stare, her head held high, shoulders firmly raised, I realize that she's miles away from those subservient women.

Contrary to what I thought, Delphine has not lost the notion of self. She didn't grow more reserved about the way she expresses herself. Instead she'd thrived, gained a fire that was not present in her younger years. In a way, she has become the person I wished she'd been when we first met.

Maybe it's because I blame her for taking so long for that to happen or perhaps it's because somewhere in the back of my mind, I believe that this is just a fleeting perception, that I'm misjudging her. It happened before and I fear I'm only seeing what I want to be real. For whatever reason, I decide to push her further.

"What it means, Delphine, is that I won't reveal your past transgressions," I say with my gaze glued to hers. "Because I'm sure that your wealthy husband-to-be probably wouldn't be pleased to hear about them."

Delphine releases my arm with a shove and squints her eyes, not ducking away from my gaze. "All I wanted to say is that is nice to see you," she clarifies with a sharp voice, "but evidently I would be speaking out of turn."

Her words are enough to make me realize how wrong I was, but even if she didn't speak them, I could just as easily notice it by the anger burning in her golden eyes; she's not nearly as disturbed as I thought.

"Shit…" I whisper and it's me who lowers my stare in shame. "Sorry… uhmm… it's nice to see…"

"Forget it!" She dryly cuts into my words. "You've obviously have already made up your mind about me, even though you don't know a damn thing about my life," she continues in a heated low voice. "But I guess exchanging three words with me was enough."

"We've exchanged a lot more than three words," I state matter-of-factually, refusing to back down.

"Did we?" Delphine asks in a tone that might be mistaken by amused if it wasn't for the hint of malice in her eyes. "And what makes you think that what happened between us more than ten years ago gives you the right to assume you know me at all?"

I'm struck by the strength behind her words and the ferocity of her voice. I blink a few times and take a few steps back until I'm pressed against the wall by the door, my body sensing the need for distance between us in order to protect myself from her unfamiliar rage. But Delphine doesn't withdraw, and if she senses my bewilderment, she has it in her mind to take advantage of it. She leans her body towards mine, towering over me, with her jaw set and gaze burning, and I know I've made a big mistake by taking her on.

"You know nothing of my...past transgressions," Delphine says in a chilling whisper, that causes an uncomfortable shiver to run down my spine.

After that she turns around and walks away. Flashes of a past life crowd my mind, watching her leave with determined steps is a common sight, but that's where the similarities end. In a way, Delphine hasn't changed much: she continues to rule any place she inhabits, she's the person all eyes are on and still intrigues me with her nature. However, the reasons for that are no longer the same. The way she carries herself is different. There is a certainty in her steps and a confidence in her posture that has me believing that now, more than ever, Delphine is entirely cognizant of the effect she has on people, and, is not shy about making it work in her favor. Utilize some well placed words and gentle stares, and if that doesn't work, Delphine won't be deterred by it and can use that same influence in an intimidating way.

As I walk inside the house, I can't help but wonder if the fiancé is aware of the person he's marrying. Has Delphine shown him this side of herself? Or was it even necessary? Daniel seems infatuated enough to deny her nothing. But, then again, I was only privy to a brief interaction between the two of them and have no idea how they're like in private, in their moments of intimacy.

At that idea, I wince and an uneasy feeling settles in my stomach. I shake my head to myself, approaching the library's door and raising my fist to knock. 'It doesn't concern you', my mind shouts in voice that sounds remarkably like Sarah's.


	9. You Can't Handle the Truth

Even if I wanted to, there was no way I could offer any sort of real resistance to Delphine's request. The window of opportunity she opened when she _demanded_ that we'd worked together gave me a new surge of hope. Although, by then I knew well that my feelings were not returned, I couldn't find in me the strength to protect myself from it, to somehow shield my own weakened situation. Being close to her, to once again have her to myself it was a much too tempting an offer to reject.

And if nothing else, Delphine was right about one thing: we were the highest scoring students; a good grade was guaranteed. This was the rational side of my brain speaking, what I told myself that night, lying in bed, waiting for sleep to come. But even then, with the confusion of feelings tangled inside me, I knew there was something else lurking beneath all the rationalizations. It never failed - not when it came to Delphine - the undying hope that my heart refused to relinquish, no matter how small it was, it managed to take a hold of me. There was the little corner of myself couldn't just let go of the possibility that, if we just spent enough time together, she'd come around and, eventually, Delphine would return my feelings.

We started to meet every other day after classes for an hour or so, before we were called to dinner. Spread over one of the tables, in the common area of the ground floor, were our books and notes while we bent over them sitting on the separate couches that surrounded the low table. After spending several long minutes discussing what we should do, Delphine proposed a topic to develop: _Critical Thinking in the Scientific Method: From Aristotle to Galileo_.

"Don't you think that's a bit much?" I asked once she proposed it, groaning to myself.

"What do you mean?" Delphine's eyebrow raised in my direction from the couch across from me.

"I mean this looks like a lot more work than I care to give it," I explained, a finger aiming to the notes on the table. "Why can't we do a Fact vs. Opinion paper? Simple, not too time consuming…" I suggested.

She twitched her lips and rolled her eyes. "Well… if you want your paper to be like everyone else's, then by all means…" Delphine said, starting to gather her things and shoving them inside her backpack. "Just don't count with me to do it!"

"Whoa… Hold on!" I exclaimed, my hands waving emphatically. "Let's just… wait!" I grasped her hand as she reached for the last of her things, but with a quick jerk she released it and my immediate instinct was to pull my hands back and set them on my lap.

She looked around nervously and froze her movements, leaning back on her seat. Briefly, she kept her head down and didn't meet my stare as I carefully observed her reaction. Her body rigid as stone, tension in tiny movements as she slowly rolled the single ring she had on her middle finger of her right hand, her eyes focused on it and with every 360º journey completed she expelled a slow breath. I waited, wondering to myself what had her mind so consumed and eager to hear her final decision.

"I thought you were more ambitious than that," Delphine said in a low, soft voice, almost as if those words were meant only to her own ears. "If I had known it, I would've never invited you to join me," she added in a higher tone, her bright hazel eyes finally meeting mine, narrowed just slightly.

I held her gaze with determination, but at the same time I felt my brain struggling to find the right answer to her not so subtle accusation. And then I realized that, no matter how I turned it, the elusive right answer would never arrive because I simply had no idea what she expected of me.

"As I recall it, it wasn't much of an invite," I decided to say, "it felt more like a demand."

"If you don't want to work with me, that's fine!" Delphine quickly said, shaking her head lively and the golden curls moved around her graceful features. "You're free to find someone else to work with."

_Yeah, right!_ I thought to myself, unsure of which of the reasons would be the strongest to push aside that proposal: the difficulty I would have to find another willing partner or the possibility of throwing away time alone with Delphine.

"I just said we should try to find something easier," I assured her with a low but steady voice. "I have no intention to… you know… like, drop you."

A ghost of a smile appeared in her lips before the blonde caught herself and gave way to her impenetrable expression. "Bon!" Delphine nodded and her body relaxed visibly, leaning more comfortably on the couch and crossing her arms over her chest along with her legs. "Do you have a better idea?" She challenged. "I'm open to suggestions!"

I took some time to think, waiting for the figurative light bulb to spark some bright idea into my mind. Meanwhile, I could feel the other girl's gaze, her boot tapping rhythmically on the hardwood floor in a clear sign of impatience, a few deep breaths indicating my time running out.

"You're pressuring me!" I complained, glaring at her.

Once more the corner of her mouth twitched, showing me a teasing smirk. "Oh… désole…" she mocked regret, her hand moving to the center of her chest in an apologizing gesture.

"Fine…" I groaned under my breath.

"What was that?" Delphine's head pushing forward pretending she didn't hear, amusement dancing in her bright eyes.

Nonetheless and despite that initial lightness that opened our meetings, they became purely professional; nothing discussed outside the paper we were working on. Delphine kept a straight face every time, not once did she show me, in the first two weeks, something I would consider even close to a smile. And as frustrating as it felt, I allowed her to set the pace; Delphine lead and I followed, some times more willingly than others.

My mind kept telling me that was the artifice she used to maintain the distance between us, she wanted the lines to be clearly defined, we were spending time together to work and nothing else. Our contacts were cold, reserved and I understood then more than ever why everyone else so readily accused her of being hostile. With time I came to realize that there's nothing more to it and my early hopes that I would, once again, be privy to a hidden side of her, slowly got lost along the way, crushed under the indifference with which she treated me. Even so, as expected, Delphine was never crude or rude, she never lost posture when we spent time together, my only complaint was that the slight amusement she had towards me before, even - if I dared call it so - the brief affection she showed me, was no longer there. Delphine was merely being professional.

My mind was in a constant battle to assimilate these two sides of the enchanting girl: the cold and distant side she insisted on now, and the playfulness she had shown me before. The light banter with which Delphine decided to grace me with once upon a time was nowhere to be found.

Every time we collected our things, uttering cool goodbyes and going our separate ways, a bittersweet taste was left in my mouth. If, on one hand, I did enjoy her company and even being exposed to her quick thinking and the inner workings of her fascinating mind, the coldness of her treatment was constantly obliterating every bit of hope that dared rise. When I reached my bedroom, to leave my things and get ready to dinner, rattled and confused, I truly believed that I wasn't any closer to figuring out what the blonde beauty was all about. Maybe she was a mixture of both, able to compartmentalize every aspect of her life, a creature that valued control above all and only decided to let it loose when it suited her; when she could collect some sort of advantage from it.

With time, this belief took root in my mind and with every hour I spent with Delphine acting more and more detached, those roots dug deeper and clutched tightly at my chest, squeezing it to the point I could no longer breathe easy in her presence. That was bad enough of course, but the worst part was the way my frustration started to reveal itself. While Delphine was clearly able to maintain distance, keeping our interactions to the strictly necessary, it was practically impossible for me to keep my emotions out of the equation. Our conversations grew bitter on my end, with curt answers laced with humorless comments. She noticed it, obviously; I was not discreet about it. The first time it happened Delphine raised a surprised brow, eyeing me curiously, but said nothing and that was all. The following times she remained unfazed and continued as if nothing changed, never losing her composure nor responding to my provocations.

"I'm tempted to agree with you, Scotty," I said to my friend, sitting at the dinner table after a particularly frustrating meeting. When he raised his brows in confusion, I elaborated. "About Delphine…"

"Finally," he said loud, raising his hands. "What led you to think otherwise, I'll never understand."

"I just thought… I don't know," I answered defeated, shaking my head. "I suppose it was just wishful thinking, but for a moment there…" I stopped, unable to express my ridiculous hopes.

I smiled sadly, lowering my head and getting back to my meal. Scott remained quiet for a while, his attention elsewhere, but I felt his stare focusing on me several times. When I'd had enough of his furtive glances, I stopped what I was doing and looked sharply at him, waiting for him to finally make up his mind and tell me what he was obviously struggling to say.

He breathed out heavily, pushing his glasses up his nose and presenting me with an apologetic smile. "Does she know?" He asked lowly, leaning his body forward so I could hear. "About how you feel, that is…" Scott completed after looking around us.

I moved my eyes to him and carefully considered what I should reveal. "She might have… like… an inkling…" I answered tentatively and when he remained unconvinced I sighed loud and nodded. "Yeah, she probably does," I admitted.

"And she still asked you to work with her?" He said with a hint of protectiveness. "What a bitch!" Scott expelled heavily.

"Hey!" I snapped, still annoyed when I heard someone talking about her that way.

It should be irrelevant what was going on between Delphine and I, the way she acted around me and the distance she insisted to keep between us. Even then, in my mind I knew it was not her fault that she didn't return my feelings, no more than it was my fault the way I felt about her. Both of those facts were beyond our control: I couldn't force her to like me, the same way she couldn't dislodge the irrational adoration I had for her. Having someone speak about her that way - even if it's my friend - it was unfair.

"Can't you see it, Cos?" The young boy asked with a determination I had never seen on him. "She's just using you! She knows how you feel about her and she's using it for her advantage."

"You think I don't know that?" I replied, rolling my eyes. "But it's not like she's making me do all the work," I explained, "in fact, if nothing else she's working harder than me on that shit."

"Whatever…" he dismissed me with a wave of his hands and his eyes dropped. "I just never thought you would be the type of person who would be okay to work with someone who's clearly ashamed of you."

At this I couldn't help but chuckle. "Ashamed of me?!" I asked with surprise. "We meet where everyone can see us. If she was ashamed to be seen with me, then I think there are more discreet places for us to meet."

He shook his head. "Exactly!" Scott continued as if I hadn't said a thing. "Everyone can see you; everyone passes by the two of you and notices the way she acts around you. Damn, even I saw how she keeps her distance! She meets you where everyone can see you two so there's no reason to talk."

"She didn't have to ask me to work with her," I stated, frowning. "And before you start to make assumptions about she using me, lemme tell you: Delphine's smart enough to do this stupid paper without my assistance and _still_ come out on top," I spoke rapid fire, while my friend stared at me. "She doesn't need me, Scott!"

"And you think what? She asked you just because she wanted a good reason to spend time alone with you?" He asked with a raised brow, like such thing was absurd.

"I don't know why she did what she did," I admitted. "Who can understand that girl, really? Maybe she didn't want to spend extra time with those moronic girls from our class." Hearing this Scott gave another one of his disbelief looks and a small smile. "Hey… you can say what you want about Delphine, but I can assure you she has nothing to do with them."

"Right! She's special…" he mocked, rolling his eyes. "The long list of ex-boyfriends tell another story though." Scott gave his final argument.

"So?" I said with a shrug, getting up and picking the tray. "The girl likes to date… nothing wrong with that." I threw back over my shoulder, already walking away.

"Ugh… you are so screwed, Cos!" I still heard him groan.

As much as I dismissed Scott's little side note, it was something that continued to bother me and, since I wasn't to meet Delphine until the day after that, the nagging thought was exhausting. I spent the next day watching her interact with other people like a curious scientist, trying to figure out what motivated the French girl. Tight smiles and curt gestures littered her conversations; a constant state of self-control, appearing to manipulate everything and everyone around her to her favor. Practicing emotionless observation and putting aside the unexplainable affection I felt for her, I noticed how she kept a tight rein not only on everyone around her, but also on herself.

The following day, when we were allowed a little free time after lunch, I decided to put a dent in her little routine. Unsure steps lead me to where she was talking with a group of friends. The blonde had her back to me, which was really fortunate, since it saved me from the glare she would've no doubt, cast upon me had she noticed my approach.

Tugging at her elbow to gain her attention, she looked down at me with a surprised frown. "Can I talk with you for a sec?" I asked, not deterred by the displeased glance she gave me.

Delphine narrowed her eyes, clearly annoyed by the disruption and I could see the muscles of her jaw clenching. Still I did not back down. "It's about the paper," I added.

Hearing this, she nodded once and, looking back at the group, all eyes carefully watching our interaction, the tall blonde offered them a low "I'll be right back". Without another word she started to walk away from the group with me trailing after her, struggling to keep up with her longer strides.

Delphine didn't stop until we were in the courtyard where we had enough privacy to keep eavesdroppers at a safe distance, but at the same time clearly visible to those who cared enough to take notice.

"What?" She asked in a sharp whisper, somehow the accent of her voice incredibly noticeable, her golden eyes two darts piercing mine.

Sensing her tension I approached the conversation with caution, swallowing my natural emotional response in order to keep things as civil as possible. "I just thought it would be better for us to start meeting at the library," I begin with a casual voice. "That way we don't have to check out all the books we need and, in addition, we can work somewhere more private, away from having people constantly looking at us."

"Neither of those situations bother me," Delphine answered curtly, in an obvious attempt to end the conversation as soon as possible.

I centered my shoulders and glared at her, the frustration reemerging. "Well, it bothers _me_ ," I said with conviction. "I'd rather work where others aren't giving me ugly looks all the time."

"They don't do that," she shook her head firmly, her tone losing some of the harshness and I couldn't understand if she truly believed what she was saying.

"Yeah, they do"" I asserted, taking a small, involuntarily step in her direction, as if entering her personal space could help me convince the blonde of the veracity of my statement.

However, with her eyes scanning our surroundings, Delphine almost immediately stepped back and the space between us remained the same. "Not everyone is looking at you, you know…" she said in a brusque way.

"No," I agreed, my brow rose high, "they're looking at you!" I corrected quickly. "And they're wondering why you're spending so much time with someone like me."

Delphine looked around nervously, as if to make sure no one could hear my accusation, even though she made sure we were too far for that to happen. Assured of our privacy, her bright eyes found mine again for the smallest second before she lowered her head.

"Delphine?" I called softly, to not startle her, but couldn't resist the instinct to draw closer. She continued to look down and like before, she stepped back, but I couldn't just let go; Scott's words pressing against my mind and the obvious truthfulness of them being proven before my eyes. "Are you afraid of what people may say?" I asked bluntly. "Of what your _friends_ might think if they can't see us together all the time?"

She rose her head, her eyes glaring at me. "And what might they think, hmm?" The harsh tone of her voice turned my muscles to rubber as I watched her step closer, invading my personal space. "My friends are aware of what I'm doing with you."

"And what is that?" I frowned, my eyes narrowing in her direction. "What? Am I your charity case?" The words tumbled out of my mouth and I had no idea how to stop it or even if I wanted to stop the sudden rage I felt towards her.

Delphine's expression remained sober the entire time I had my little fit, only a flicker of exasperation crossing her features. "I didn't know you were such fan of self-pity," she commented, straightening her back with slow, rigid movements.

"Self-pity?!" I scoffed. "I'm just saying what everyone thinks!"

"I couldn't care less about what other people think," Delphine declared with determination, her lean hand raising to smooth locks of gold hair.

"Bullshit!" I blurted out, my voice raising an octave. "If that was the case you wouldn't be so obvious about parading me in front of everyone else, while treating me like shit all the time," I was on a roll and not even the surprised look she gave me was enough to stop me. "Everyone can see how you work so hard to keep me away and, quite honestly, I wouldn't give a fuck. But what I'm really struggling to understand is what the fuck were you thinking asking me to work with you if you want to keep me away. Wouldn't it be easier to just continue to ignore me like you did before?"

I spoke with emotion, hardly noticing the tone of my voice raising with every word, but even if I had it wouldn't have made me stop. She was the one who so obviously was concerned with what other people might think while watching our lively exchange. Even so, Delphine made no attempt to calm me down. In fact, during the entirety of my tirade, her bright eyes never left me, but I could see the emotionless mask she always kept on morphing into a controlled anger.

"I'm sorry if I thought you'd be a good partner to work with on this paper," she said with a chilling voice. "I just thought we could work well together, but you're obviously unable to separate things."

I lowered my head and remained speechless for a long moment, my eyes drawn to her brown boots, wondering when she would start to walk away and leave me to contemplate the depths of my accusations. She never did, though. The French girl remained incredibly still, as if waiting patiently for my reaction.

I took a deep breath and shook the head to myself. "You don't have to treat me like I'm not there," I mumbled, more thinking aloud than meaning for her to hear me. "If we are to make this work, we need to like… be friendly or something, you know?" I finally raised my head to stare at her, Delphine's eyes opening wider and what looked like guilt forming in her expression.

She sighed loud, her chest deflating and her shoulders lowering with a slow expel of air. "I… it's just that," Delphine started tentatively, but kept stopping. "I didn't want to give you false hope," she admitted at last, looking away from me. "I didn't want to lead you on, because I… well, I know how you feel and I just… I don't."

The blonde's confession hit me like a sharp knife penetrating my chest. Although this was something I knew, to hear it so clearly from her made my entire world come crashing down. A sudden urge to laugh hysterically came to me, the bitterness of anger and irony pulling at my brain. That feeling was not new to me, it was, in fact, incredibly familiar, I had lived with it almost my entire life, somewhat embraced it and built around it, leaving it untouched. It was not until I met her that something changed, I allowed myself to feel the warm tinge of hope. To have it then, so abruptly, taken away from me once more was a blow I wasn't prepared for.

"This doesn't mean I don't want to continue to work with you," I heard Delphine continue with a soft voice in the distance, my mind miles away. "I still believe that we can do this paper together, but if you don't agree with me or…" she paused and swallowed dryly, "or if you think you're not… capable, then…" Delphine stopped, it was useless to continue anyway.

With every word, I could feel the darkness closing in, the heaviness in my heart pressing harder each time and then… _nothing_. Nothing at all. A complete void. Like an overflowing glass that can't support the weight any longer, I cracked and everything that was inside me, pressing against my carefully built walls scattered all over, leaving me weightless, hollow.

"Don't be ridiculous," I said with a voice devoid of emotion, "we can continue to work. But lets do it in the library," I continued in the same dead tone, "you don't need to worry, I know there's nothing more to it."

Delphine looked at me with a concerned expression, raising her brow just barely, unsure if she should believe me. "Are you sure?" She asked. "I mean… I don't want you to feel uncom…"

"What makes me feel uncomfortable is having everyone staring at me," I cut her off and gave a step back, preparing myself to leave. "We start to work in the library or not at all." I started to leave, but stopped and turned my head to Delphine, whose eyes held the clear reflection of her surprise. "About the rest… well… we'll forget the whole affair."


	10. Meet Daniel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my beta decided to work double time and I get to post in two stories today. How awesome is that?

A deep voice grants me permission to enter the library and I carefully poke my head inside, eyes immediately finding a pair looking at me. Daniel has the same unimpressed expression with which he greeted me and the others in the morning and I mused that it must be his default state. Sitting in an executive, black leather chair behind a large desk that by the looks of it has already seen its fair share of decades, he motions with his hand for me to take a seat in front of him, while his eyes move lower to a few papers on top of the desk, grumbling something along the lines of "just a minute".

I take that chance to get familiar with my surroundings. The room is naturally dark, the only window, while large, casts little light into it and even if it that wasn't the case, the fact that it's directly behind the desk it gives the idea that the single purpose of the window is to cast an ominous light over the person taking the central stage. This room is not decorated to make its visitors feel welcomed, but rather to intimidate whoever finds themselves in my position. Even the chair that I'm sitting in feels lower than the person in front of me; a predictable cheap shot but not any less effective.

What's left of the room is what is to be expected from every personal library. Stacks filled with books cover every available wall up to the high ceiling, the only personal objects I can see though are a few diplomas hung on each side of the window. Three olive green leather armchairs are strategically spread throughout the room, not exactly meant to be used, but simply to fill a space that otherwise would feel too empty.

A clearing of his throat brings my attention to the son of my new employer, who clearly caught me inspecting the room.

"It's a lovely library," I comment with my best fake smile.

Daniel reclines on his big chair, almost presenting me with a pleased smile while he plays with a golden pen, rolling it between his fingers. "Yes, thank you," he says with a reserved voice.

He raises his hand to his clean shaven face, revealing a large, white gold watch on his left wrist with the hitch of the formal gray shirt, his fingers rubbing it thoughtfully while his thumb supports his weakly chiseled jaw. Daniel's small, dark eyes observe me with a curious gaze, apparently carefully considering his next words. The longer he takes the more restless I get and I start to wonder if this is another intimidating tactic. While I'm used to being close to people with power, it's true that I very rarely deal directly with them. Usually there's some sort of distance: they're always the _target_ , the _prey_. Very seldom is expected of us to fully interact with them.

"First and foremost there's something I need you to understand before we begin," Daniel starts with a decisive tone, his stare moves to fixate on the bookshelf to his left, but I know that's not where his interest lays. "You will respond directly to me and no one else," he continues as his eyes move to mine, his tone is serene but assertive.

I cross my legs and get more comfortable on the chair, my gaze calmly steady on his. "What you mean is that I'm not to report to your father," I say with a small smirk, trying to convey in him that he has an alley in me.

It's a gamble, I can't be sure that I'm reading him correctly, but I feel like it is a calculated risk worth taking: to gain his trust from the start will be incredibly beneficial. If he believes that my allegiance is with him and not his father, even if that's not entirely what he meant, it'll put me in his good side much faster. And that's our primary focus: _gain their trust,_ S said, although I'm not sure she would agree with my reckless method.

For a few seconds I fear I might have just missed the mark and start to think about ways to get out of the hole I dug for myself. Daniel rises a surprised brow, his hand moves to reach for the pen again with a solemn expression, but soon he has a small smirk of his own, his eyes brightening up just barely. "I'm glad we understand each other," he says in a lighter tone. "I have the feeling we're going to have a very productive partnership."

I fight against the breath of relief threatening to give me away and widen my smile. "I've learned that is important to trust each other in my line of work in order for things to move smoothly," I say, feeling my confidence growing.

"Exactly! Trust!" He says energetically, giving a small slap on top of the table before he gets up and starts to pace with his hands laced behind him. "You see, Ms. Niehaus, my father is a businessman - and a very good one at that - but he lacks the…" he stops, searching for the right word with one of his hands rotating in front of him, "pragmatism that torments the rest of us." He finally decides.

"His concerns fall on how to run a business and make sure it prospers," Daniel resumes his pacing, both his hands joined again, before he brings one to his chest. "My job - and yours by association - is to protect said business and guarantee that… outside forces don't intervene."

This gets my attention. "You're talking about corporate espionage," I assume, my head turning to my right side, looking at him.

"Yes, but not exclusively," he points out, approaching me and one of his legs raises to the top of the desk, half sitting with his gaze on mine. "Success has a way of attracting enemies from all branches of society. My father is a good man, built his empire with great effort…" Daniel stops and tilts his head back, sighing deeply.

"This is no longer the land that praises the ideal of the self-made man," he proclaims with a disappointed voice, as if such fact hurt him on a personal level. "Success continues to be envied, but it's no longer celebrated. People tend to focus only on the negative side of things, disregard every good thing that has been achieved."

I wait for him to continue and provide some sort of example for his claims, but Daniel falls into a contemplative silence.

"Is that what happened in New York?" I take another risk, ready to put the breaks the moment I notice I've gone too far. "Did people start to focus more on the negatives?"

It's the way he looks at me that makes me realize my slip up, his eyes narrowing in my direction and his shoulders surge forward. "How do you know about New York?" He asks with a severe voice, standing tall and getting much closer.

_Fuck!_ I start to feel the adrenalin pumping through my veins, urging me to adopt a more defensive stance, but I know that will only rise more questions from an already suspicious Daniel. So, with great difficulty, I remain in a relaxed posture on the chair, not ducking from his glare. "I don't think I would be very good at my job if I didn't make a background check on my prospective employer," I comment boldly. "It was not particularly hard to find out about your father's previous whereabouts."

Daniel remains suspicious, but I can see he's not so defensive. "Although, I gotta say, your father does an exceptional job at keeping away from the limelight." I continue knowing that I need to go further to appease him completely. "It's highly uncommon for someone with his stature to maintain a relatively secluded personal life, away from the public eye."

"My father is a very private person," Daniel agrees, stepping back from me and restarting to walk around the room and I finally take a deep breath when he turns around. "My younger brother, though… he's a completely different story."

The man stops in front of the bookcase, the fingers of one hand brushing along the spine of several books and this time I offer no observation, patiently waiting for his next words.

"Will likes the spectacle, not shy about parading his wealth… the women, the cars… you should see what he drives to the club," Daniel stops to chuckle, but it's a bitter, humorless struggled sound. "He enjoys the flashing lights and I'm afraid he could be blinded by them."

Making him the perfect target to people who have ulterior motives, I think but keep it to myself. Even if I'm yet to meet the younger Webster it's not hard to notice that he's the weakest link in this tightly ruled family. Most of the information we've gathered about them came from the least cautious of the three men. Several clips from online articles with quotes from William provided us with the little information we have from the family, including the early demise of Mrs. Webster. No doubt he seems to be the most sentimental of them. If this family can be broken, it will be through young Willy.

"Don't get me wrong," Daniel's voice brings my mind back to the present, turning around to face me but maintaining his distance, "I love my brother, but he is… different. There are things he wouldn't understand."

"Which is why he should know as little as possible," I complete Daniel's reasoning. It's not a gamble this time, his implications were far too easy to read.

The same smile he had before, reappears on his lips, satisfied with my comprehension of the situation. I'm much more careful with my assessments after the near screw up, but I can see that the tip of trust is there, all I have to do is cement it and _don't fuck up anymore!_

Having that out of the way, Daniel proceeds to explain to me the details of my work. Monitoring the traffic of the company's network is going to be a tedious and exhausting job, that's probably going to take me at least two hours every morning. The positive aspect of this particular work is that I'll have access to every account on it, which includes email addresses and internet searches. For all it's worth, I'll have unrestricted access to the company's data traffic.

The second part of my job, however, is a totally different situation. Afraid that their private network might be breached by outsiders, Daniel wants me to keep an eye on it and rebuild it's firewall. Not so discreetly he hints that I should keep tabs on his father's personal email account and even traffic - all for his own good, of course. And this would be all fine, in fact I was quite excited about it: being warranted access to the private network would not only open the door to the older Webster's activity but also anyone who'd use it. Which, obviously, included his eldest son, who's becoming a lot more interesting to be focused on. Unfortunately, Daniel doesn't seem to be a software illiterate nor does he trust me nearly as much as I wish. I might have the doors open but I won't be able to cross them without him knowing: the same way I can see what he's doing, he can monitor my entire activity. The software he's proposing works like a window to the superusers, which will be me and him.

"I assume you have a laptop with you," he says, sitting back on his chair and crossing his arms on top of the table.

"I do," I nod, but not pleased with the idea of using my personal computer. There's no way I'll let him have access to it in this lifetime. "But I actually wanted to get a new one for quite some time."

"That can be arranged," Daniel surprises me by saying. "I completely understand your reservations about using your personal computer for work. In fact, I wanted to encourage you to get a new one for this job."

There are two possible interpretations to his words: either Daniel is incredibly reasonable or, most likely, he's afraid of what I already have in my system. Daniel seems like a cautious man, he won't risk me using my personal computer for the simple fact that he can't control everything that's already in it.

"You can go to the city tomorrow morning and buy one," he informs casually, a clear indication that he had this already planned. "When you return, let Alfred know and we'll work on it together. And don't worry about the price, you'll be using the company's credit."

"Wow… that's awesome!" I expel before I can catch myself and clear my throat to regain my composure. "I mean… I'm totally gonna use it just for work stuff…"

Daniel chuckles softly and I see he's warming up to me; in no time I'll have him in my grasp. "Yes, I know how your kind gets excited about new toys," he says with humor. "We have a car arriving for you and the others, but unfortunately it won't get here until Friday," he then informs me picking up his smartphone and typing a text, "but I'll arrange a ride for you."

"Yes… about that," I refocus, "we were told we're gonna have a free day a week…"

"Oh, of course," Daniel stops me, setting his phone back on the desk, between his laptop and the keyboard of the desktop. "This weekend the three of you will be released from your duties Saturday afternoon and are due to return either Sunday night or Monday morning, as long as you get here before nine," he explains, then pauses to give permission to whoever's knocking on the door to get in. "We'll work a schedule during this week, but that will always be your free day. The other two can rotate, but given the nature of your responsibilities, I can't release you during week days." He finishes with his eyes already behind me, where the door was closed quietly.

I turn around just in time to see Delphine's surprised expression morph into a tentative smile, her eyes moving between me and Daniel, until they stop steady on her fiancée with a raised brow. Small and determined steps guide her through the hardwood floor, crackling softly under her boots.

"Can you take Ms. Niehaus tomorrow morning to the city?" Daniel's eyes lay adoringly on her, with a completely different smile from the ones I've seen from him so far. "She has some shopping to do and finds herself without a car."

Delphine stares at me with an arched brow and a small smirk. "I would, but I won't be spending the night," she says with a clear voice, her eyes trained on mine while she speaks, perhaps not to let him see the coldness in them as she says the words.

"Oh… but you're staying for dinner, right?" Daniel seems caught off guard with the news and the man that was so sure of himself just moments ago seems to have melted in Delphine's presence.

"I am," the blonde's gaze finally leaves me and her expression softens considerably when she looks down at the man still sitting, "but I have to leave after. Perhaps she can take a cab or go with Joshua," she offers with a big smile that's far too innocent to be real.

"Joshua leaves at seven, you know that's too early," Daniel comments without a hint of suspicion in his voice, if nothing else, it's too sweet, almost condescending. This man is completely oblivious to how ferocious Delphine can apparently be, if what I witnessed outside can be trusted.

"Then cab it is!" Delphine replies cheerfully, with a side glance in my direction.

I swallow dryly and feel the familiar pull at my gut. It's truly amazing what she's accomplishing here; Delphine has managed to blind a man, who by all accounts seems to be a very logical person, with nothing but her charm. It really shouldn't, but the way she can manipulate him has me fully impressed. It was a skill she had in her younger years, I'll even go as far as to admit she was absolutely aware of it, but the way she has developed it is astonishing to the point that I need to fight back a devious smirk. Even is she's now using her undeniable appeal to give me a little jab, I can't help but feel fascinated.

"It's fine, I'll take a cab," I agree, my stare briefly going to Daniel before I return it to the woman, firmly looking up at her and narrowing my eyes slightly. "Thanks anyway, Delphine," I say, mimicking her sweet tone and earning a glare from her.

She nods curtly, before leaning in, her face approaching Daniel's and she brushes her lips against his. And I feel it again, the irrational jealousy, this time pulling harder, causing my hand to reach quickly for the arm of my chair and clutch it tightly, my jaw clenching at the sight of his hand moving to her cheek. But, at least, it doesn't take long before Delphine pushes herself away and starts to walk towards the door without further words, giving me a side glance as she passes next to me. My eyes follow the alluring sway of her hips, unable to deny myself an appreciative gaze, until I catch myself and move my stare back to the man sitting in front of me. If I had any concerns about being caught admiring the view, they evaporated the moment I see him. His eyes still glued to the elegant figure leaving the library, seemly as mesmerized as I was just moments ago. He sighs deeply when she closes the door, completely wrapped around the blonde's finger.


	11. Willy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, we're staying in the present for a couple of chapters to move the main plot a little bit.   
> I can't thank my beta, Cophine, enough for the great work she does.

The meeting with Daniel finishes shortly after the tall blonde leaves. Still a little dumbstruck, he hands me the company card and scribbles down on a yellow post-it the number for the taxi service they usually use, along with his personal phone number, although he advises me to use it only in emergencies when he's not around the estate.

When I step outside the library I catch a glimpse of Delphine going up the stairs that lead to the private living areas. She turns her head at the quiet sound of the door closing behind me, and a grim shadow closes her features as she continues to go up, just before she looks ahead again and disappears from my sight, turning the corner into the hall.

"Ms. Niehaus," the male voice with heavy British inflection grabs my attention and I find Alfred standing by the dining room; its big, glass double doors opened and right in front of the library entrance. "Perhaps you'd like to go back to your quarters and see if there's anything we've neglected," he offers in a formal tone, his eyes moving just for a brief moment to the top of the stairs.

I steel my mind not to dwell on how long he might have been standing there and what he made of my staring. "Oh, I'm sure we're well provided for," I take a few steps towards him and away from the office door.

"All the same, you should be sure," the chief of staff insists. "Joshua leaves early in the morning and he'll need a list before nine tonight."

"Actually I'm going into town in the morning," I inform him casually, "Mr. Webster wants me to get a new computer and I'll take the opportunity to get a few things we might need."

He frowns his brows, but nods slowly. "Very well," the man says curtly, "then I suggest you take the remainder of the day to rest or explore the estate," his tone acquiring an edge with each word he speaks, " _outside_." He finishes after a short, dramatic pause.

"I'm gonna take you up on that last one," I answer cheerfully and gracing him with a huge smile.

I leave him and his raised brow and walk briskly in the direction of the backdoor; the smile fading the instant I'm out of his sight. I sigh deeply when I step outside, a gloomy feeling capturing my mind while my eyes move up to the sky covered in thick, dark gray clouds, not a hint of blue. Next I look at the small cottage and think about heading there and flop myself on the comfortable bed which is probably calling my name. However the memory of Felix's earlier outburst guides me away and instead, I take a leisurely stroll in the direction of the pool. There's a small area where a couple of wooden garden tables, painted white, surrounded by matching chairs are covered by an equally white canopy. It's the perfect setting to provide some respite from the sun during the hot summer days, sipping a nice cocktail and getting pleasantly buzzed in the afternoon. But in the middle of a snowy and raining late autumn these chairs offer the only place to sit that's not wet and I take advantage of it.

I try to empty my mind, fully aware that I won't get many opportunities like this during my stay. Oddly, for that I'm thankful. Having my mind occupied with work prevents it from wandering in directions I have no right to take. As much as I hate to admit it, Sarah - and even Felix to some extent - are right to feel apprehensive. Even without knowing the depths with which Delphine, in the past, has influenced my life. Entertaining scenarios where the siblings would learn the entire story is something I hope to avoid.

With a foot I drag another chair until it's right in front of me and prop my feet on top; stretching my legs out for more a relaxed position. The air smells of rain and wet grass, and while I can hear a few birds chirp in the distance, there is also the rustle of leaves in the trees; indicating a slow breeze from the North, carrying heavy clouds and the subsequent rain. There's a sort of calmness in the air that anticipates an angry storm, and I have no doubts that tonight the sky will be brightened by lightning that will shake the earth beneath my feet. I close my eyes and bask in the quietness that surrounds me, leaning my head back and taking a few deep, calming breaths, thinking that the only thing missing for this to be perfect is a nice joint between my fingers. I can almost smell it, my brain tricks me into believing I can feel the earthy taste in my tongue.

And then I open my eyes and realize it's not an illusion, I can actually smell it. I turn my head around, slightly disoriented, until my eyes land on a tall young man, standing near the other table. The black, thick hair and small dark eyes, rimmed red, leaves me no doubts about who it is. Mr. Webster's youngest son has the same characteristics of the other males in the family, yet somehow, those same genes compose pleasant features. He's, most likely, considered a handsome man; the weak chin of his brother is absent and in its place a strong jawline is drawn. Broad shoulders and a well defined chest can be seen under his tight brown shirt, and worn jeans cover his legs.

After a moment I start to quickly fumble, lowering my legs and straightening my back, I begin to push myself up.

"Oh, no, no… please," he waves his free hand and gets closer to me, placing that same hand on top of my shoulder. "Don't get up," he moves back and takes an empty chair on the other side of the table, while using another chair to rest his feet, much as I've done.

Silently, I watch him bring the weed to his lips and release the cloud of white smoke with a joyful grin on his lips. Speechless, I observe as he moves his red eyes to me, the same dopey smile on his features and extends the joint over the table between us. I frown in confusion, my gaze dancing between his extended hand and his face.

"No, thank you," I decline in a small voice; not because I don't want it but because I don't think it's good to get high with the son of my new boss on the first day.

He shrugs and gives me a short nod, retrieving his hand for another drag. "I don't think we've been introduced," his words forming a cloud of smoke, "but I assume you're one of my brother's new minions." He finishes with a small giggle.

I grin at him. "Yeah... Cosima," I say, my feet moving back to the top of the chair and allowing my body to loosen up again.

"William or Will," he says in a husky voice, "Will, really... my brother likes to call me Willy to piss me off, but I rather you didn't." The young man talks fast, obviously already well buzzed.

"Don't worry, I won't," I chuckle.

"I thought the new security team was arriving today," he points out after another drag, "but you seem too small for that."

"I'm the IT," I explain.

"Oh… I see," Will opens his eyes and gives me a once over. "Well, you've got the whole hot geek thing going on, so I guess that makes sense."

"Hmm… yeah… thanks," I answer awkwardly, nodding a few times.

He laughs heartily. "Relax! You aren't my type," he says dragging his gaze away from me and rests it on a distant point in the horizon. "I like my women straight or at least going both ways and I don't think you fall in either category."

I arch my brow at him, but if he notices my mild discomfort he pays it no mind. Instead his eyes pass right by me, to focus somewhere behind me and he waves his hand with a big smile on his lips. For a moment I think he's miscalculated the amount of weed in his spliff, but then I hear footsteps getting closer, then stopping behind me. I don't really understand how I know who it is even before I turn my head around, although I suspect it's because William maintains his relaxed posture.

"Delphine, why don't you join us?" He says cheerfully. "Cosima and I are having a very interesting conversation."

"You don't say," I'm surprised to see a easy smile on her lips. Even the tone of her voice is smooth, and her steps are light as she crosses the space to claim one of the chairs by the other table and drag it to ours. "And what are you discussing?" Delphine asks with humor, positioning herself in the space between the chairs where we have our feet.

I observe her with undisguised curiosity as she reveals a cigarette in the palm of her hand while the other gestures in Will's direction, who without a word hands her his lighter. Every move Delphine makes is marked by her innate sensuality; the way she lights her cigarette and closes her eyes while she takes the first drag and expertly exhales a tendril of smoke. It all seems so effortless for the gorgeous woman; leaving the cigarette between her lips and reaching behind her head for the wild, curly hair, pulling it up and fastening it sloppily with a band she slips off her wrist.

"We're talking about what we look for in a woman," Will's answer makes me snap my head to him, a murderous glare in my stare.

But all Delphine does is laugh, a deep throaty sound that I vaguely remember from the past, but that was so rare, that its memory had faded until now. "I don't know you as being too picky," the blonde says, aiming the free hand at him.

He laughs with her. "True, true…"

The entire situation feels oddly comfortable and I have the clear impression that Delphine and Will often meet outside for easy conversation, seeming at ease with each other, much more than with her own fiancé. The couple of times I've seen them together, Delphine appeared to have a sort of stiffness to her, like she was holding back something. Not now. As she sinks deeper into the chair, raising her elbow to the top of its back and bringing the cigarette to her lips once more, the frenchwoman seems completely laid back. It reminds me of the few times we met by the lake and a few times after, when the young blonde adopted a completely different posture than when we were surrounded by others.

I know this is dangerous territory, not that it makes me stop. I can't seem to silence the memories that continue to come back to me, especially when I notice Delphine's gaze shifting to me in a sideways glance. The corner of her lips seductively curling, just before she turns her head to me and pins me with her impossibly gorgeous golden eyes.

"What about you, Cosima?" She asks in a voice that I just know is meant to tease me, but I can't help the coil it causes in the apex of my thighs. "What are you looking for in a woman these days?"

It's those last two words that stick with me. I return her daring gaze, but my brain is in a knot and nothing useful comes out of it. The silence lasts for too long, and Delphine's eyes don't waver; the understanding that she's absolutely aware of what she's doing growing in my mind. Her small grin doesn't begin to cover her intentions; her eyes sparkling with an unwarranted victory. Why she's so pleased with this accomplishment, I don't comprehend. The only justification I find for it it's the fact that she's obviously able to manipulate me in the same way she apparently does everyone else.

Briefly, I glance at Will, worried that even in his state he could sense the rising tension between the two of us, but the young Webster is barely in this world: his head thrown back, his eyes closed and a stupid grin on his lips, clearly enjoying his high.

"I'm looking for the exact same thing," my brain finally restarts to work, "not that you've ever known what that was." I answer in a low voice, setting my feet down and leaning forward.

Delphine doesn't back down at my attempt to goad her. In fact, her smile loses its slight easiness, and becomes something taunting. "Oh… I think I knew what you wanted, even back then," she assures me, equally quiet and leaning in my direction as well. "And I'd be very disappointed if, after all this time, you were still looking for the same thing," her eyes narrow just for a moment, an appraising stare moves over my body. "But I pretty much doubt that's true."

I feel myself swallow the lump in my throat, my body gains a mind of its own and finds a way to get closer to hers, sitting on the edge of the chair. "Why would that be disappointing?" I ask in a voice that borders a whisper.

Delphine gives me an enigmatic smile, pulling the last drag from her cigarette before she stubs it in the ashtray sitting on top of the table. She won't answer me, my eyes waiting too eagerly a response as she gets to her feet. Her gaze is trained on me, the same grin gracing her lips, and I feel a shiver run down my spine, which I wish I could blame on the late afternoon breeze, but the fact that I am unable to stop staring doesn't allow me such a shameless lie. In fact, my eyes don't abandon her until she passes beyond my sight and is moving behind me. Fully convinced she would walk away, the hand that Delphine places on the skin of my neck surprises me; my body in total shock when I feel her cool hand slip further and barely pass the upper seam of shirt to softly graze my collarbone, lowering herself until I feel a warmth brushing my ear.

"You were always too coy, Cosima," my name rolls out of her tongue in a low alluring tone, as her fingertips dip along my skin, just shy of stroking the top of my breast. "I was hoping that had changed."

As quickly as her touch came, it was gone. My heart is pounding and the cold air does nothing to cool my overheated skin.

"Don't come inside until the high goes away, Will," I register Delphine's voice at my side, sounding much louder and completely casual, "you know Daniel doesn't like that."

My eyes go to her just in time to see her remove her hand from the top of Will's shoulder, who rolls his head to the side and mumbles something incoherent. As I watch her leave, Delphine manages to surprise me once again when she looks back over her shoulder and throws a wink at me; obviously having noticed my unabashed stare move along the sinful sway of her hips.

"Shit!" I say loud, startling the man enjoying his buzz.

"What?" He asks lazily.

"Nothing, Will, nothing…" I answer getting up and walking in the direction of the cottage, feeling too worked up to say anything useful or to worry about the consequences of what just happened.


	12. Eliminating The Competition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've stayed so long away from this story... it's inexcusable... but.. like I have a justification... I got tangled in writing the chapter after this one, you see...
> 
> Anyway... Thanks to Cophine for cleaning this chapter (which I know is a bit slow, but the pay off will come for it)

When I finally return to the small cottage, I take a deep breath, the tension settling heavily on my shoulders. Sarah and Felix are relaxing, each having claimed a sofa, focused on their laptops while the news broadcast from the tv serves as background noise. They lift their eyes when they hear me come in, but say nothing and return to their work. This type of atmosphere is far from my favorite, creating an ache that surrounds my heart, forcing me to build walls for my own protection.

Without a word I go to the kitchen, phone in hand, to take note of anything that might be needed for the next week. In the process of going over things, I remove the meat that I leave out to prepare for dinner.

"I'm sorry about earlier," Felix's voice comes from the door and I turn to find him, examining the floor and a bit flustered, making me suspect that the apology is not his idea. "I didn't mean to... I might have been a bit too..." he stammers.

"Forget about it Fe," I spare him the effort of faking an apology and turn back around. "I'm going into town tomorrow morning, if there's anything you need me to get..."

"Would it be too much to ask you to bring something a little stronger than ice tea?" He says with an awkward laugh.

"Yes, it would be too much," I answer without stopping what I'm doing, but feeling a small smile growing on my lips. "Ask Sarah if she needs anything," I say right before I hear the door close quietly.

I take what's left of the afternoon to unpack the rest of my things and when I return to the living room Sarah's still there, sounds coming from the kitchen indicate that Felix is taking care of our meal.

"What did you tell him?" I inquire with a raised brow.

She grins mischievously. "You don't need to worry about that," she says, getting up and stretching her back with a groan. "But I put my ass on the line for you," she stares at me pointedly, "so don't fuck up!" She warns.

I duck my head and nervously bite my lower lip. For a moment it crosses my mind to tell Sarah what happened but I quickly dismiss that idea. Not only will it cause another discussion between the three of us, but I also don't really know how to explain exactly what happened. I don't truly understand what Delphine meant or wanted with her actions. All I know is that there's something not quite transparent in her. Delphine's intentions are an absolute mystery to me and if there's anything I've learned in the past is that nothing is what it seems with her. If I thought that it may have changed with time, that she'd become simpler, those considerations have long left my mind. In fact, our brief interaction has proven the exact opposite; that the intervening years have only served to accentuate this characteristic.

Delphine caught me off guard, her actions surprised me because, even though I didn't know what to expect, it certainly wasn't that. Not in my wildest dreams would I have thought she would pull those moves against me. Of course I knew she was capable, she had done so before and had obviously perfected them, but for all the time we've spent together, I was never on the receiving end of her bite. I was, on occasion a spectator however, she had always spared me; as if she had decided that either I wasn't fair game or wasn't worth it. I never figured out which. Obviously that time has passed and now she's on the offensive, I'll no longer be spared from her vicious attacks.

At least next time I'll be prepared, knowing the rules that once applied to us no longer do. If Delphine has decided to go down that road, I certainly am not gonna be on the sidelines while she does all the damage.

"Don't you worry," I say with a smirk dancing on my lips, "I know exactly how to deal with Delphine."

Sarah breaths in deeply. "Why doesn't that sound good to me?" She says, twisting her mouth.

I shrug. "You're just gonna have to trust me on this."

"Right..." she comments in a low voice, "ain't that just perfect..."

The three of us go to bed early after an uneventful dinner, where Felix continued to show signs of getting back to his normal self and where more than once, I caught Sarah giving me a glance. Even as the time zone change helps with an early bedtime, and despite feeling exhausted, I lay in bed, my mind refusing to stop its meanderings. Every muscle is tense and try as I might, I can't relax. In my stupor I hear a loud motor start and slowly drive away. Lazily I reach for my phone on the bedside table and check the time; 10:43 pm. Most likely, it's Delphine leaving and I breathe deeply and expel a sigh of relief, ridiculously feeling satisfied to know that she won't share her bed with anyone tonight.

The entire situation continues to feel unreal to me, as if I'm stuck in a dream that my recently acquired conscience is refusing to leave. I've lost count of the number of times that has happened: woken up in the middle of a dream where the last thing I remember is Delphine's smile. Always smiling. Delphine had the most gorgeous smile. Perhaps it was the fact she was not the type to smile easily - it was something she reserved for the appropriate occasion, always perfectly placed - but it was something that fascinated me beyond reason: Delphine's smile. Ironically, that's exactly how I knew it was a dream. In the off chance that we ever met again, there was no reason for me to see that smile again; not after how we left things. Even so, having Delphine act the way she did seemed equally unlikely. Having her manipulate me the way she did, in my mind, was as improbable as having her whispering sweet nothings in my ear while my hands roam her body.

Eventually my mind gives way and I fall asleep, or at least I assume, I did, because the next thing I know I'm waking up to the sound of my phone's alarm. I groan, but force myself up and go straight to the shower before any of my housemates wake up. I'm already collecting the fresh bread left on the outside of the door when Sarah emerges from her bedroom, rubbing her eyes and mumbling a good morning as she disappears into the bathroom. A quick breakfast later and I'm leaving the house, heading to the front drive, where someone from the guard post informed me the taxi would be waiting for me.

The ride into town doesn't take long, and I ask the driver to leave me at the largest commercial center he knows and pay for the fare. The big shopping mall has several electronic stores and it takes some time for me to scout the right purchase. When I hand her the company's credit card to pay, the young clerk gives me a suspicious look, but makes the transaction either way. Next I go to the lower level where I imagine I'd find a large supermarket. Leaving my box with the computer at the reception, I work my way around the aisles, shopping list in hand. I find the few toiletries Sarah asked for, as well as what I need for myself. In a last minute decision, I go for the beverage aisle and find a bottle of the scotch Felix drinks - let's call it a peace offering.

With the bags of groceries in one hand and the computer box under the other arm, I walk slowly to the taxi line and return to the estate just in time for lunch. I leave the laptop on the couch as well as the rest of the bags and move to the kitchen, where the two siblings are already preparing the meal. Setting the liquor bottle on top of the counter without another word, I'm immediately wrapped up from behind in Felix's lean arms.

"You're an angel," he shrieks excitedly next to my ear.

"And don't you forget it," I reply in a light tone, turning around and wiggling out of his hug but giving a big grin at the same time.

His smile lets me know that, at least for now, peace was restored. Felix is the type of person who burns out fast: the intensity of his anger is a very big contrast with its length. So, for now, we're good and we can focus on the work we came here to do: get comfortable with our assigned roles and wait further instructions.

With that in mind, after lunch I grab the laptop still in its box and meet Daniel back at the library where I know he's expecting me as we'd agreed yesterday. It's a slow process: getting the machine to run for the first time and after that remove all the software and firewalls from the manufacturer and replace it with the ones we'll use. Furthermore, it doesn't help that while the man was never a bundle of joy, today he seems to be even more reserved. There are no side notes during our work; Daniel's determined to keep this strictly professional, even the small part of his personal side I was allowed to see the day before is absent.

It's late when we finally have everything set up so that I can get to what my responsibilities should be and we agree to meet the next morning and go over the company's traffic together.

"It will be better that way," Daniel explains from the chair next to mine, where he sat when we began working. "We can train with the real deal."

"Yes, I agree," I nod and watch him put the computer in hibernation mode. "Does it stay here or do I take it with me?" I ask, pointing at the machine.

"You can leave it here tonight," he says, closing the top and moving to his desk chair. "But after that you should take it with you. You'll be working out of your quarters. I believe there's an extra room where you can set an office if you'd like. Inform Alfred of what you need and we'll acquire it for you."

"Sure, that'll work for me," I comment as if I have a say on things, trying to find enthusiasm in the idea that I'll be locked in an office for, the very least, every morning.

"Good!" He clasps his hands and sets them on top of the desk. "We'll meet here first thing in the morning... say nine?"

I nod again and stand up. "Alright," I answer, pushing the chair in, but my stare moves discreetly to his sober expression, he seems to have something else on his mind. "Good night," I say when he remains quiet and turn to leave.

"Cosima," he calls quietly just as I reach the closed door. I pause, surprised to hear him call me by my first name; so far it has been "Ms. Niehaus this, Ms. Niehaus that". I turn back around and raise my brows, but don't say anything. A million thoughts cross my head: I know that Delphine didn't persuade him to get me fired, otherwise Daniel wouldn't have bothered to guide me through what I should be doing. Nonetheless, she could make my stay here very uncomfortable. Maybe she decided to be honest with her fiancée and disclose our past, although I don't see how she could possibly benefit from that, other than straining my relationship with my new boss. If she feels like she's walking on solid ground and her engagement secure, she could do it just out of spite. I know she has it in her, the question is whether she'd actually do it - or better yet, if she wants to.

While all these thoughts ramble in my brain, I'm left staring blankly at the young man, who seems to be struggling to find his footing on whatever he wants to say and that only makes me fear even more what's coming next.

"Delphine..." he starts, but then takes a little pause to clear his throat. "She... uhh... she gets bored," he finally speaks a bit louder. "It's not like she complains, but I can see it."

"Okay..." I say with caution when he stops again.

"I've been thinking..." Daniel tries once more. "You'll be busy much of the time, but some afternoons, I figure you'll be free to do whatever you want, and I think that's fair given the fact that you'll be working six out of seven days," he adds quickly, his hands raised in a sign of agreement. "But if you don't mind, maybe you could spend some of that time with her," he says calmly, "since you're old friends."

I take a deep breath and walk a few steps back inside the room. "Mr. Webster, as I said before, Delphine and I barely knew each other, we hardly exchanged two words... we were never friends," only the last statement comes out with conviction. "I really doubt she'd want to spend time with me."

He nods slowly and that tells me that my story matches Delphine's, if she told him anything at all, that is. However, he seems to be determined. "Even so," he insists, "maybe the two of you can become friends now..."

"Mr. Webster," I raise my hand to stop him, "as far as I can remember, I have very little in common with your fiancée," I say, barely able to keep my voice steady with the last two words. "I don't see any reason why she wouldn't continue to be bored in my company."

"All I'm asking is that you, at the very least, try," this he says more firmly, letting me guess that there's no real choice in this. "Delphine's spending too much time with my brother and I can't be... available to look after her all the time."

"What are you saying?" I ask, unable to determine the reason for my growing unease; whether it's because of the way he's talking about Delphine, as if she's something that should be looked after; or if it's because of the implied accusation in his words.

"I'm saying that my brother is not a good company," he clarifies coolly. "And I don't want my fiancée to keeping bad company. Also, I don't think is much to ask for you to perhaps go shopping with her some day or do whatever you girls do."

I swallow dryly and nod slowly. "Maybe some day," I reluctantly say in the most noncommittal way I can.

Truth is, I'm not terribly worried about it. As I take my leave and walk back to our cottage, I'm thoroughly convinced that it's not going to happen. It's not like I'm going to invite Delphine for a shopping spree, nor will she propose an outing. If Daniel broaches the subject again, I'll simply say that the opportunity has never arrived and assure him if it ever does - it won't - I'll go. There. No harm, no foul.

In lieu of full disclosure, when I find Sarah and Felix laid on the couch upon my arrival, I tell them about my conversation with Daniel.

"Those were his words? _Look after_ her?!" Sarah asks, sitting on the couch and looking straight at me.

"Exactly like that," I answer, surprised by her reaction.

"Geez, what a twat!" She expels loudly.

"You think he's worried that his fiancée is getting too cosy with his little brother?" Felix asks with an impish grin.

"Sounded like it," I say, sitting heavily on one of the long chairs. "but I don't think she is," I think aloud. "She acts like Will is _her_ little brother. They're like... I don't know... they're friendly, that's it!"

"And how would you know that?" Felix asks suspiciously.

I sigh heavily and twist my lips. "I... I ran into them yesterday," I admit.

"And you don't think that was something you should've mentioned before?" He says in an accusatory tone.

"Why would I?" I try to keep my voice calm, so not to make a big deal out of it. "Delphine and I are bound to run into each other, deal with it! But that doesn't mean I want to be her bestie."

"No, you want to be in her pants," Sarah shoots in her characteristic practicality. However, she doesn't sound particularly angry, in fact, I can detect a hint of humor in her words.

I narrow my eyes at her. "It doesn't mean I will," I deadpan.

"But you want to!" Felix reiterates.

"Of course I do!" I retort, reach my breaking point and stand up. "But I'm not stupid, okay!"

"Oh Cosima, you can be plenty of stupid sometimes," Sarah says with a chuckle. "But I don't think we need to worry about something happening," she says, looking at her displeased brother. "Is not like the French baguette will give her the time of the day."

"Thanks!" I say annoyed, swatting the hand she has aimed my way.

I go to my room to change into something more comfortable. I close the door and start to breathe easier, thinking to myself that Sarah's right. There's no need to worry about that, Delphine was always very determined to make herself abundantly clear. So what if she, at times, changed her mind? Everyone does and it's not like Sarah or Felix need to know that. Nor do they need to know how the blonde, still today, knows exactly how to play me like a violin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also... as a footnote and SPOILER for 4.09 and 4.10
> 
> -
> 
> -
> 
> -
> 
> YES!!! SHE'S ALIVE!!! MUAHHAHHAAHHAHAH!!!


	13. Making a Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, we're back in the past.  
> Thanks to my Beta ;)

After classes, I went to the library, not sure if I'd find the blonde there, or if she would stubbornly continue to resist my request. Perhaps it would be easier that way. If we stopped spending time together at all, perhaps this… infatuation would go away. After all, she'd made it clear that there was nothing more I could get from her. Honestly, know that part of me hoped for that; I knew I couldn't stay away on my own volition, but Delphine had that power. She could choose to stay away from me; give me back the freedom she was responsible for taking away. The hollowness of lost hope was buried in my heart, but the craving remained...no less intense just because my hopes were crushed. It was deeply ingrained and would not be so easily exorcised.

An uneasiness settled in my gut as I slowly moved through the library, books of different shapes and sizes meticulously displayed on their shelves, the older and less likely to be requested by the students locked behind glass doors. My eyes searched the desks, dispersed haphazardly, and occupied by fellow students. The separation of genders and classes was apparent even in the library; no group was heterogeneous, although it wasn't uncommon for a more eager boy to skip to a desk occupied by the girls to demand some sort of attention. As I scanned the desks attentively the tension in my gut rose, an uncomfortable mix of relief and disappointment tightened my chest every time I came up empty.

After checking for a second time, I settled at one of the empty tables and pulled out the novel I was reading - "War and Peace", another homework suggested by Lucy. Part of me was screaming to leave and look for the blonde; we still had the stupid paper to do after all, but the stubbornness that was part of my trademark was much stronger. If I went look for her and found her waiting for me in the same place we always met before, that would represent failure and the determination I demonstrated earlier would've fallen flat. For the first twenty minutes, each time the door opened, I'd raise my eyes from the book, only to return to my reading a few seconds later. Soon I stopped looking. When dinner time approached, I sighed heavily, closed the book, and marched to the door.

On my way to my room to get ready, losing the uniform and change into my regular clothes, I passed by the common hall and there she was, on the same couch. The books we'd been using for our paper were closed and stacked neatly on the small table, while Delphine held a smaller book; her eyes tracking down the page. For a moment I thought about approaching, but when I searched my mind for something to say and found no real answer, I continued on my path.

This ridiculous impasse lasted for the next three days. Always the same. I went to the library, but Delphine never joined me; maintaining her ground in the common hall where I spotted her on my way back to the bedroom at the end of the afternoon. During the days she barely looked my way and when our eyes did meet, she gave me an icy glare that would've frozen my insides if they weren't burning hot with determination. I refused to fold my hand and if she thought she was simply calling my bluff, she was dead wrong. I didn't care if it meant failing the stupid class, it's not like I had parents to disappoint or anyone to be angry at me for my childish act. However, Delphine _did_. She had someone who would demand explanations from her. So what if I was using that to my advantage? I had leverage and a mind to use it, so it was not surprising that she was the one who had to bend her resolve.

On the fourth day a fuming Delphine sat heavily in the chair across from me and all but dropped the books on the desk, making me jump in my seat.

"That's so fucking irresponsible!" She said too loud for the place we were in, her voice more accented probably due to the anger burning inside her.

I pretended to refocus on my book. "What's that?" I asked, feigning disinterest.

"I thought you said we should at least try to be friendly," she pointed out, her voice lowering to a sharp whisper as she leaned forward over the table.

"And I thought I said I wanted to meet in the library," I answered in the same tone, my own body leaning as well, after I closed the book in one swift move.

"You can't force your way all the time," Delphine said in a much conciliatory way, perhaps trying to reach my logical side.

"But you can, right?" I didn't even have to stop to think about my answer. "You chose the topic of our paper, I get to chose the venue," my arms moving around us, "thus, we'll do it here!" I finished casually.

Delphine stopped a moment to look around us and I did the same, noticing more than a few pairs of eyes on us. She clenched her jaw tightly and exhaled slowly, reaching for the books she'd brought with her and opened them without another word. A silly, triumphant grin graced my lips when she wasn't looking, a small surge of pride in my chest. For once I had the upper hand, and I tasted victory for the first time when it came to Delphine, however feeble it was. I had enjoyed it greatly.

The dynamic in our relationship changed after that. Despite her sour mood at ours next few meetings, Delphine seemed to take my input into account. Two weeks in, she moved to sit next to me, making the job much easier without books moving back and forth along the desk. Still, the blonde was always aware of the distance between us; if she thought we were getting too close, like when our arms brushed, she would lean back, while on the corner of my eye I could see her discreetly observing the people around us. Every time this happened I felt my heart skip a little, but hardened my resolve to not let it get to me; brushing it off and swallowing my feelings. I could feel the dark hole in my chest growing with each new way she found to cut through me.

We never discussed what happened between us; not by the lake or the heated exchange we had in the courtyard. When we were not working together in the school paper we were strangers. We passed each other in the halls and didn't share a word, even as our glances lingered a little longer on one another. My meals and free time continued to be spent with Scott, my stubborn sidekick who refused to leave my side, even on the days when the frustration was threatening to get the best of me.

It was like a different set of rules were applied the moment we met at the table we'd made our own. The moment we sat next to each other, another Delphine emerged, even when compared to the one who met me back at the lake. She continued to be calm, serene; a small smile curling her lips when we reached the same conclusion for our paper, or a subtle frown when we were in disagreement. But no longer was I forced to defend my perspective in a stream of arguments that stumbled upon each other. Instead, she listened carefully, nodding a few times with another small smile when her mind was starting to change or shaking her head and deepening the frown when I wasn't getting to her. I found that, she too talked with her hands; not in rapid, erratic motions like myself, but in firm, calculated gestures, her delicate hands swayed between us in an elegant dance. Our voices remained low, dropping to contained whispers every time we found it difficult to get to a common ground. Nonetheless, we always got there, whether it took five minutes or the two hours we started to spend together, there wasn't a single day that we left an argument unresolved. When we packed up to leave, the margins of Delphine's notebook were covered in drawings; lines intersecting in complex florals, round pictures, or sharp, gothic abstracts, while mine were covered in written notes, barely legible, from top to bottom. And always a satisfying feeling of accomplishment.

The level of intimacy reached within those hours, however, was in stark contrast to when we were outside those walls. There, it seemed unreasonable for us to even breathe the same air, much less talk. Delphine carried on with her life, surrounded by the popular kids, who seemed to be determined to do everything she asked of them, especially the boys. It didn't take long for her to get yet another good looking dude to follow her around like a lost puppy.

"I thought you said you were done," Scott said one day, when the rain finally relented and gave way to a sunny winter day and we found ourselves in the courtyard.

"What?" My eyes moved back to my friend, leaving the tall figure at the other end of the field.

"Delphine," he said flatly, "you can't take your eyes off of her."

"I'm looking at you now," I pointed out with a shrug, but he gave an unconvinced look. "Listen… I know it's pointless, I do, but… I can't just turn it off, it's not like I can flip a switch and stop caring."

He smiled a little, his eyes followed mine, which had found their way back to the blonde and the boy beside her. "I guess spending so much time with her doesn't help," Scott said in a sympathetic tone.

"At least we're kinda getting along, you know," a small grin starting to grow on my lips. "She's nice, smart… a bit stubborn," I chuckled.

"You're helping my case," Scott looked back at me, his brow raised.

"What? Would you prefer if she was a bitch to me… again?" I asked, my humor between confused and annoyed.

"No!" He answered fast. "Of course not, but it's like… she continues to lead you on," Scott said in a small voice, as if he was afraid of saying it too loud.

"She's not!" I defended her immediately, but minding my own voice, keeping it leveled. "She's just being nice, we could become friends."

Scott snorted and rolled his eyes. "You two will never be friends," he said with a hint of irony, "you like her too much."

Of course Scott's words carried a heavy burden of truth. From the start, my intentions were never that pure, my interest was not in being her friend. And perhaps he was right when he said that Delphine, with the way she was acting, was continuing to lead me on. But I knew that at least it was unintentionally. I certainly couldn't tell her that the little random things she did were making me become even more fascinated with her. That, I needed to keep to myself. Our relationship was what it was and the little I could've done to change it, I did. It didn't work and for my troubles I was rewarded with a broken heart and a gut wrenching feeling every time I saw her in the company of someone else who could have something I could not. From then on my intention was to let it run its course, deal with my feeling on my own time and be done with it.

Besides, I believed that the way I was ignoring the way I felt around her was making Delphine more comfortable around me. I could sense her relaxing in my presence. What I was doing could be viewed as a sacrifice: swallow my own feelings for her benefit. However, I thought it was worth it; it was even selfish at some extent. Delphine was being genuine to herself, the effect it had on me was irrelevant and definitely not her fault. And this time in return I did get something; I got a glimpse into her; I could see a side of her that I honestly didn't think she showed to anyone else. It was not a fair trade, it was not the trade I wanted, but it was better than nothing.

There was a different sort of energy in the courtyard when I joined Scott the following day - the weather of early February was being generous; cold, but sunny - a constant stream of words quietly spoken, groups of students gathered in close circles and whispered to each other while looking around themselves. After class I went to the bathroom and during those short minutes it was obvious I've missed something. Scott's eyes were locked in a distant point and didn't notice my arrival.

"What's happening?" I asked, my own eyes moving around to find the source of the gossip.

His stare found mine with a startled look. "I don't know… but something is!"

"Well, aren't you Mr. Obvious," I joked while I continued to look around.

An agglomerate of students were gathered around a table where loud voices could be heard, but we were too far away to understand what was being spoken. All I could tell for sure is that someone was definitely not pleased.

Scott looked back at me with a frown. "Should we like… go there?"

"Nah…" I replied with a quick shrug and a hand wave. "Something this dramatic will reach even us."

That was as much as I cared to think about it. Usually, the gossip that circulated around the school meant little to me since I was so far removed from the social life. Besides, when they did concern me, they were mean spirited and laced with ignorant remarks. But whatever it was going, it was big, because when I decided to push myself up from the table and walk to the library, it was still going on; the group of people around the source of discord had grown and the chat was overlapping, everyone trying to speak at the same time. So much so, that when I entered the library I found it completely vacant of students, only the sister who oversaw the room was there. I headed to the desk, took my seat, and opened the book Delphine and I were currently exploring for the paper. Unsurprisingly, the blonde wasn't there, contrary to the other days, when occasionally she showed up before I did. I assumed she was still occupied with the big news. I didn't think much of it since Delphine was an integral part of the school social life.

It must have passed twenty minutes before students started to fill the library, returning to their everyday routine, but the excitement in the hushed conversations was undeniable. Delphine entered the library soon after, and claimed the seat across from me, the chair that had been vacant for the last three weeks. She said nothing; never looked up while she opened her backpack and removed her notebook. Around us, the noise grew, the hushed words rose to an uncomfortable, non-stop buzzing sound, like the noise of relentless air conditioning. Unable to ignore it, I looked to the other students, who didn't even attempt to be subtle; staring at Delphine and occasionally glancing at me. I swallowed the uneasiness rising to my throat, and turned back to my study partner, my stomach lurching at her defeated posture. Her head was bowed, supported by a hand on her chin, and her long curls were deliberately draped to one side; shielding her face from the rest of the room.

"Do you want to leave?" I asked when I realized that she was the source of the whispering.

She looked back at me, brows drawn in a frown, trying to pretend she didn't know what I was talking about. I rolled my eyes and tilted my head in the general direction of where the others were. She sighed, and gave a short nod, packing up her things while I did the same. In no time, we were walking outside, side by side with a thick silence between us. Delphine seemed lost in thought and I was too busy fighting the urge to ask her what the hell was that all about. Curiosity kept pulling at my mind, but her obvious reluctance to talk about it stopped me. So, we continued to walk, our backpacks hanging from our shoulders as we strolled with no real destination in mind.

I was never one to stay quiet for too long, especially when there was an excellent topic of conversation. Delphine's occasional heavy sigh and the fact that she wouldn't look at me was driving me nuts. I cracked when we were passing a shed in bad shape. The wooden boards that held the thing together were starting to rot, nails plagued with rust, and the lock and chain that were supposed to keep people away had long succumbed to the passage of time, which is exactly the reason why I knew precisely what was inside. My penchant for curiosity had guided me inside the decrepit building on a previous sunny Saturday afternoon, when I had too much time on my hands.

"Can you ride a bike?" I asked suddenly, cutting the silence between us.

Delphine turned her head to meet my question with surprise written across her features. "What?"

I smirked and without thought, grabbed the hand closest to me. "C'mon!" I said excitedly, pulling her along with me.

It was probably because I caught her off guard, but Delphine offered no resistance and let me guide her. I only released her hand once we were standing at a slanting door that gravity would soon pull to the ground.

"Cosima, what are you doing?" There was tension in her voice, the whispered words surrounded by urgency.

I tried to lift the door so it wouldn't drag on the soft grass, but the backpack, held only by my right shoulder kept falling down. "Here, hold this…" I urged, relieving myself of the burden and handing it to the blonde, whose eyes moved between me and the field around us.

"If someone finds out, we'll get in trouble," she continues to speak in a low tone, her eyes darting around us, absentmindedly grasping the bag I gave her.

"Right… so we need to be sure no one finds out," I said with a big grin as the door finally gave way and I was able to open it. "Let's go!" I told her when she remained outside.

Inside, it smelled like wet dirt and rusting metal, and the low sun light entered filtered by the gap between the wooden boards, but it was just enough for me to spot what I was after. Four bicycles were neatly stacked in a corner, sure, they had seen better days, but apart from a few dirt and spider webs, they were fully functional; the tires were filled and the chains were whole and well lubricated; probably used during the summer.

I turned to find Delphine still by the door, refusing to come in and looking at me with a heavy frown. "You don't happen to have some tissues with you, do you?", I asked.

Nodding as she twisted her lips in a discontented gesture, she showed an impressive display of determination as she managed open her own backpack and remove a small pack of tissues without setting my own bag on the dirty floor. She didn't offer to help while I clean the seats and gave a quick brush on the handles, only moving to the side to make room for me to pass with both bikes and leaned them against the outside of the shed. I closed the door and left everything as we've found it, minus the two bikes.

"I'm sure that place is infested with rats," she commented after I closed the door, giving me back my bag.

I shouldered it and shrugged. "Yeah… snakes too, probably," I said, reaching for one of the bikes and starting to walk with it by my side. "Wait! Is that why you didn't come in?" I asked, turning my head to her.

"Of course," she admitted, nodding. "I don't want to be eaten by rats or… snakes," she said while a shiver crossed her spine.

"Oh dude… you are such a girl," I joked lightly, chuckling.

"Yes, I am… and your point is..?" She said back, quickly jumping to the saddle of the bike I left for her and riding away.

I laughed freely and raced to catch up, pleased to see a relaxed smile as she slowed to allow me to ride along side. It appeared her doubts about our little theft had left her mind and we rode at a leisurely pace along a dirt road that would lead us to the far end of the property. We passed by the lake, hugging the shore and over a bridge, hearing the stream rushing wildly beneath us to an unknown destination. She was the one choosing our path while I followed her lead. However the pace was never too fast, especially since we encountered a few puddles on the ground and we had to be careful around them, not only not to fall but because if we speeded up we would soil our clothes and our escapade would be uncovered.

"Careful with the..!" She warned.

She tried...I'll give her that, but it came too late and next thing I knew I was falling to the dirt. I was unable to avoid a large rock and the momentum was enough to project me forward and over the handlebars. I felt confused with it all; only remembering the squeaking of brakes and the sound of Delphine's bike falling helplessly to the ground. By the time the blonde approached me I was already holding my left leg, biting my lip to keep from cursing and blinking my eyes several times to keep the tears from pouring down my face.

"I tried to warn you…" Delphine said in an almost exasperated tone, but the concern in her voice was louder. "You should've been watching where you're going."

"Yeah, yeah… I'm clumsy," I tried to dismiss her, but fuck, my knee was killing me. "Tell me something I don't know."

"Here, let me see…" She said quietly, her hands reaching for mine and pulling them aside. "How could you not see that big rock?" She commented absentmindedly.

I looked back and noticed that she had a point: the thing was huge and the only defense I had was that its color was sorta the same brown tone as the path. Maybe I was more distracted, carefully observing Delphine riding in front of me, than what I thought; these stupid school skirts are very…

"Hey!" I interjected, feeling fingers probing around my scratched knee.

"Who's being a girl now?" She asked with a ridiculously cute and teasing smile on her lips.

I huffed, my stare moving from the captivating smile to her hands around my knee. Delphine started to frown as the wound began to bleed, delayed as the skin loosened when she encouraged me to lower my leg. After a few moments, she reached for her bag and produced the same pack of tissues from earlier. Taking one out, she started to clean around the wound, mindful of not pressing over it, her lower lip trapped by her teeth in concentration. I swallowed discreetly, the pain momentarily forgotten. She took her time and when she was satisfied, she got up and stretched her hand to help me up.

"You should get it cleaned when we get back," she said, balling the tissue and storing it away.

"Don't worry, I'll keep your name out of it," I assured her, taking her hand and pulling myself up.

"I was not thinking about…" she stopped and started to laugh, her gaze moving along my body.

"I'm glad my misery amuses you," I said annoyed.

"Ohhh… you poor thing," she mocked. "You were lucky! So what? You have a scratched knee and dirt all over your clothes… big deal! It could've been a lot worse."

I looked down myself, my clothes were a mess and blood was still running down my leg, but a smile reached my lips and then a laugh, joining Delphine. "I see your point…"

"Do you?" She asked with humor, raising her brow. "Cause I don't think you see anything very well. You might need glasses."

"Great! Thanks doctor Cormier!" I said sardonically, picking up the bicycle from the ground after dusting myself off. "How much do I owe for the consultation?"

"I'm serious," she continued in a more sober voice, taking a few steps to get her own bike. "I actually think it will look cute on you with the right frames…" She said while she climbed up and started to peddle back the way we came.

I gasped when I sat back on the bike and the ride back should've been hell. My knee had started to swell, and with each peddle, a sharp pain would remind me of the injury, and Delphine didn't bother to slow down for my benefit. But, instead, the whole time I was smiling. My grin didn't disappear even after she left to get ready for dinner - still not crossing the door of the shed, when we were returning the bikes. The smile didn't even fully vanish when I had to go to the infirmary and lie about the ugly, scratched knee. All I could think was that she called me cute, well not exactly… but you get my point.


	14. Get Wiser

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very excited to get back in this story. Hope you like it. Thanks to my beta.

****

Two weeks passed without change and the three of us settled into the routine of our new jobs. While it's true that the two siblings are occupied the better part of the day, as Daniel predicted, I find myself with most afternoons free. Once I became familiar with the software, things began to run smoothly. I would wake with my housemates and work on the logs from the previous day in the privacy of the office across the hall from my bedroom at the end of the house. In the off-chance something catches my eye, I schedule a meeting with Daniel and we work on the best course of action, which, invariably means restrict the internet privileges of the employee.

The second aspect of my job - surveying the traffic from the family members - has, up until now, come up empty on any interesting activity. And while I thought that would please Daniel, every time I give him an uneventful report, he shows small signs of impatience, as if he is expecting someone to slip up and do something they shouldn't.

During our residence thus far, Sarah and Felix have already begun to complain about my small workload compared to theirs. In a way, I agree with them; after all it's an easy assessment to make. However, the free time has its downside: I'm growing restless, and the longer I am without something to occupy my mind, the worse it gets.

We've not heard from S. Two weeks into the mission and she's yet to give us new orders - or even a sign of life. It's a little ridiculous, but I'm starting to feel abandoned. It's becoming increasingly difficult to resist the temptation to initiate contact with our leader; the only thing that keeps me from doing it is knowing that I would never hear the end of it. Besides, I have a feeling that eventually one of the siblings will crack - probably Sarah, since she's the most impatient - and I'll let that bomb fall in their laps. It's a waiting game at this point.

To keep myself entertained on my downtime, I've made a habit of walking around the property. After lunch, for obvious reasons, it became my responsibility to conduct a little exploration of the large estate. Not three days after we arrived, the construction of a big garage had begun west of the manor and adjacent to the outer wall. Daniel casually informed me that once completed, it would hold the several vehicles they've yet to send back from New York. Since money is obviously not a problem, the work goes quickly, and it should be done in a month. Until then, their everyday cars, along with the cars that are used by the staff, are parked on the west side between our cottage and the main building.

My strolls have allowed me to identify the owner of each car and, in doing so, I always know who's around. Both of the younger Websters drive brand new BMW's, although Daniel's has classic lines while Will's is a sports model; the father, probably a fan of the classics, drives a DB4 Aston Martin, in mint condition and shaped like a penis. To my surprise, I've discovered that Delphine prefers to get around in a beaten-up red Mitsubishi SUV.

I've seen her around the property, never for too long though, just entering and exiting the house, straight out or into the car. However, since our talk by the pool we've never exchanged words again. More than once, I'm reminded of our youth and how she so masterfully ignored me when it suited her, only to effortlessly claim my attention whenever she pleased. It might've been a decade since those days, but I can't help feeling trapped the same way. It bothers me more than it should, more so when I never understood why it was so hard for me to turn it off - the memory of her. Even before this assignment, it was not uncommon for her name, her face to invade my mind when it was quiet, untethered. Years after the last time I've laid my eyes on her, Delphine's memory continued to hunt me. Perhaps the explanation is simple, maybe it's just because she so well embodies my previous life: opportunities lost and wrong choices made. Having her back in my life, however briefly, does not represent another opportunity of what was forever lost, but is more the ghost of a past that I've left behind long ago, coming back to torment me; to throw in my face a present that could never exist, regardless of whether I'd actually wanted it or not.

The feelings intensify when out of nowhere, Delphine decides to approach me. I'm surprised to find her waiting for me near the cottage upon returning from my stroll around the estate; the cigarette she's been smoking tossed in a curt movement to the ground as I stop a short distance from her. My brow arches and I wait for her to speak, to discern her purpose, lest I jump to conclusions as I've done before.

Delphine's expression barely changes, only the corner of her lips twitch while she steadily gazes at me.

"I'm sorry to bother you," she starts, but her expression is one of someone who is tasked with a rather unpleasant chore, and apologizing for it it's the last thing she wants. "But… I have something to ask you," Delphine hesitates and even for someone who's so skilled in hiding her thoughts, this time it seems like an impossible feat.

I narrow my eyes at her, willing myself to hold her gaze, not wanting to broadcast any weakness. "Okay…" I say cautiously when she stops for too long.

Delphine expels a defeated sigh. "Daniel has been rather… emphatic in wanting me to talk with you…"

She pauses again and I would've let her sweat a little more if not for the movement I see in the window behind her. Probably attracted by the voices, one, or both of my housemates have decided to peer through the curtains.

"About having a girls' day," I offer, but there's nothing I can do about the small, mocking smirk that settles on my lips. "You're fiancé is worried that you don't have enough girl friends." I finish with a snort; the irony of this is too good to miss out.

A small grin appears that Delphine quickly tamps down, but the glint in her eyes remains bright, not as easily controlled.

"Just one afternoon to get him off my back." I arch a brow hearing the way she chooses to propose it. "We don't even have to spend it together, just leave and arrive in the same car," she concludes, the detached mask once again upon her features.

"We can do that," I agree with a slow nod.

"Okay," she says almost relieved, "Call for me tomorrow when you're free."

She leaves with a slight nod, and I watch her walk away for a few seconds before I turn back around and, with a deep breath, open the door.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Cosima," Sarah says the moment I step inside.

I look at her and she regards me with worry in her eyes. "Don't you think it would be more suspicious if I refused to talk with Delphine when it was her who sought me out?"

"Okay," she concedes, far from convinced though, "but you need to be careful. Remember what we're here for."

"Yeah… if only we knew," I comment casually, dropping heavily on the couch, draping my leg over the arm in a more comfortable position.

"It certainly isn't to shag the boss's soon-to-be-daughter-in-law," Felix intervenes, coming from the kitchen with a glass of the scotch in hand.

"Apparently Daniel's really keen on us being BFF's," I punctuate my statement with a incredulous wave of hands. Both of them end up laughing at the ridiculous situation and I eventually join in. "I know, okay… Delphine will give me a lift to town and pick me up, that's it. Just to shut him up."

"As long as the two of you don't start reminiscing about your teenage lesbian drama, I'm fine with it," Felix shrugs and takes a sip of the amber liquor.

I'm slightly surprised at his change of perspective, but I'm not going to complain about having some elbowroom. "If we start doing that we might end up in a nasty fight, so…"

"What exactly happened between you two?" Sarah asks, quickly snagging her brother's glass and taking a generous gulp, even as he voices his protest.

"I rather not talk about it," trying to lighten the subject, I don't need to be raising suspicions with a confrontational attitude. "But you really don't need to worry; there's a reason why I'm not particularly happy to see our paths cross again.

"Besides, it seems like Ms. S knows about our story and if she isn't worried, neither should you," I remind them. "Unless you don't trust her judgement, that is…"

Neither of them accepts my challenge and I can sense that I've just gained some more trust; at least in this issue.

"Speaking of mommy dearest…" Sarah says, raising her voice. "She has contacted me and wants to meet."

"When was this?" Felix seems as surprised by the news as I am.

"A couple of days ago," Sarah ignores her brother's distressed expression. "We're meeting in three days."

"None of us is free," I say, referring to me and Felix who have to work the rest of the week.

"I said so to Ms. S and she told me she would meet each of us on separate occasions. So expect a call."

I look at Sarah more carefully. She's avoiding our stares, and her body language practically vibrates with nervous, little gestures.

"She has asked you not to tell us about it, didn't she?" I ask point blank.

"Hey, we're here together," Sarah says rather quickly, her tone of voice raising a few octaves with the tension. "She's out there, doing God knows what, and we're stuck inside the lion's den alone, without knowing where the danger is coming from!"

Felix nods, gets up from the armchair he's been sitting on and approaches his sister. There's obvious discontent in the ranks, the anxiety of staying still for too long is starting to tear at both of them.

"I agree," Felix confirms my suspicions. "We should share all the information, no matter what S says."

I feel both of them staring at me, waiting to see if I'll join their rebellion. Not once, in my many years with Siobhan, have I had any reason to doubt her good judgment. Even if I never liked this assignment and have been vocal about it, I never doubted that she's looking out for us - in the shadows, pulling her strings - but still present. On the other hand, I realize I'm outnumbered and to not join the two siblings is not only stupid, it could also be dangerous. If I get into some sort of trouble, they're my first line of defense. Besides, they've already shown very clearly that they consider me privileged in this mission.

"Yeah, of course," I steady my voice to come out with conviction.

I'm not sure if they go for it, in fact, I'm not even sure how I'm gonna act. I guess it all depends on what Ms. S has to say, only then will I decide what to share with them, if anything at all. I have no doubt that her first priority will always be keeping us safe, and it's possible that going against her advice could put us in a difficult position. Not only because she'd be furious but also because she's our connection with the outside world; she has information we simply don't.

Despite the white flag waved, the next morning I can feel the mood tense in the house. More than once, I catch subtle glances in my direction from my two companions, sleepy eyes turned in my direction with unhidden concern in them, possibly worried about what the day has in store for me. I can't exactly say I disagree with them; I'm worried too. So much, in fact, that it kept me awake the better part of the night - not that they'll know about it any time soon.

The morning also fails to be productive. Work that generally takes less than two hours to complete, lasts until early afternoon. I find my mind wandering, my gaze drawn to the office window, lingering on the green field that stretches for hundreds of yards, dappled by large trees that never create a true forest. I watch the shimmer left on the grass by the snow that fell overnight as it melts under the weak pressure of the winter sun; my fingers twitch reflexively in the absence of the joint that I crave today more than I have in years. Meanwhile, the powerful laptop buzzes on top of the desk, the screen turning black with the inactivity.

I manage to finish in time to find myself in the kitchen preparing a light salad when Felix comes barging in, dressed in sports clothes and tennis shoes that are as alien to him as the sweat covering his body.

"You smell like a horse," I comment when he approaches to see what I'm doing.

"I'm sure you'd prefer the fragrance of pretentious French perfume," he banters, reaching for a slice of toasted bread on the counter.

"Don't you?" I take it lightly, raising a brow.

"Actually, I'll take a smelly man any day of the week," he snorts.

"That's just disgusting!" I retort as he leaves the kitchen.

Felix's smell has improved when Sarah returns for lunch as well, and he's pleased to inform us that the afternoon will be focused on the more theoretical aspects of body combat, to which Sarah and I exchange a confused look but let him talk. Sarah, on the other hand, has been spending the last few days getting acquainted with the property as seen from the security cameras, surveying the estate for blind spots and overseeing the plans for the garage, which will also be incorporated in the CCTV system.

"They want to expand the area that's covered," she tells us. "So far, the cameras are concentrated in the areas surrounding the buildings and gates. But they also want to spread them around the rest of the property."

"Well, that's not exactly out of the ordinary, is it?" I inquire, sitting on the chair once I set the salad bowl at the center of the table. "It's a very large area; they'd want to be sure they have everything under control."

"Not really," Sarah answers. "If there's nothing to guard, there's no point in putting cameras in the middle of nowhere."

"Yeah," Felix offers, "you have nothing out there, there's nothing worth stealing and if anyone gets inside with that in mind, they'd necessarily need to be in reach of the cameras to do some damage."

"Okay," I agree after listening to both of them. "Then why would they be so concerned with the rest of the property?"

"Brilliant question, Cos, great insight!" Sarah mocks me. "When we've decided where the new cameras go, I'll let you know," She goes on after I ignore her little jab. "But I tell you this: there's definitely something freaky going on here and I have full intention of asking S about it. We can't stay here without knowing what the hell is going on much longer."

And we're back at what we discussed the day before, but with that I can't disagree; we can be in extreme danger if we remain ignorant about our purpose. It can be easy to compromise our mission if we don't know what it is. Perhaps their position is not entirely ridiculous. Maybe S has miscalculated the amount of information we should've been given.

"This whole thing reeks," Felix puts my thoughts into words. "And I know I'm not the only one unsettled by this situation. I might be the most inexperienced but we can't deny it."

Neither Sarah or I respond, but our expressions say it all. It's imperative that Ms. S knows of our concerns, and even more important, that she does something to fix it. This becomes more urgent considering the people I'm working with. It's not that I don't trust them, but Sarah is infamous for her bad temperament and Felix will always follow his sister. I can't let this spin out of control. Sarah has mentioned that she'll bring it up when she meets Ms. S, but, for good measure, I need to do it too, regardless of whether I agree with them or not.

Both of them are long gone. I've been, not so unconsciously, dragging my feet to get ready to leave. When I realize what I'm doing, I chastise myself for taking extra time on my choice of what to wear and applying my eyeliner. I frown at the bags under my eyes caused by the restless night, and with a frustrated sigh I grab my maroon pencil pants, knowing the thick fabric will keep me warm and a red, fitted wool shirt. At the door I stop to look back, buttoning up my red coat and adjust the comfortable scarf around my neck with nervous hands.

Stepping outside is like entering an ice cube, the cold air shock my lungs at the first inhale and my boots crush the wet gravel under my feet as I drag them in the direction of the main building, eyes on the ground, intently observing a few loose small rocks rolling away as I walk.

"Cosima!" The all too familiar voice sends a jolt to my heart, the sound of my name with _that_ inflection causing it to beat madly after a sudden pause.

I turn my head in the direction of the smooth voice and find Delphine leaned against the high back of her SUV parked in its usual spot. I hesitate a fraction of a second, my eyes unable to bend to my brain's command to stop staring. But it seems to be an herculean task.

Her golden locks shine even in the weak sunlight, draped along the pale complexion of her flawless features. Everything about Delphine screams composure: the long, pearl white coat that hugs her lean frame tightly, the formal black slacks that fall gracefully over her legs, ending at the top of her feet to allow a small glimpse of her high-heels. Even so, her rebellious streak is on full display with her bold red lips, making the most delicious contrast with the ivory skin. It's only when I can no longer ignore the small smug tugging the corner of her lips that my feet decide to approach her, although I can't claim that it's a conscious action rather than a gravitational pull.

"I see that you continue to be at war with the clock," she offers unfazed, pushing herself off the vehicle and walking to the driver's side door. "I was starting to think you'd changed your mind."

To my shame, I struggle to grasp words and she's already starting the car with a loud roar when I step inside.

"I know we both hate this, but it would be less terrible if you'd speak," Delphine comments in an annoyed tone while driving us off the property, her eyes briefly shifting to me when we're stopped at the gate waiting for it to open.

I remain silent as I see her struggling to strip off her coat after turning the air conditioning on. She tosses the thing into the small backseat, revealing a gray cashmere turtleneck shirt, tight around her torso, flattering her lean form.

I swallow dryly and return my eyes to the road, adjusting the seat belt. "You told me to call for you when I was ready," are my weird first words and I can't believe how whiny they sound. "I wasn't expecting you to be waiting for me."

The gates of the property are disappearing in the rearview mirror and we pick up speed as Delphine steps on the gas. "Well, I always liked to do the unexpected when you're around," her voice lights up, softens around the edges and becomes more inviting. "It kept you sharp."

I feel my body relaxing, sinking more into the seat, the stiffness of my back dissipating, a smirk on my face. "Oh yeah... I used to love that." I say sarcastically.


	15. Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back in the past.
> 
> Also, I'm running out of adjectives to describe the amazing work my beta, Cophine, puts into these.

Saturday mornings were invariably spent in bed. Free of my roommate, who always left early, I would lazily drift in and out of sleep until I found myself wide awake with a book in my hands, my legs covered, propped against the headboard.

It was one of those days; the Saturday after our ride along the school's field. After a quick, limping run downstairs for some breakfast, and a hastily smoked joint, I was back in my the bed with a book. My knee had ached during the night, waking me up whenever I shifted into a position that put pressure on it. Even lying still, my knee throbbed in pain, like an hand was squeezing it uncomfortably, causing me to flinch occasionally. I delayed the beginning of the day until the need to use the bathroom became impossible to ignore, distracting me from my reading. With a pained groan, I rose from the bed, bending my legs once or twice, hoping my muscles would obey and reached for the small pouch that contained my toiletries. Tucking it under my arm and grabbing the towel on my way out, I made my way slowly down the hallway.

Contrary to weekdays, when I always had to wait for my turn, the locker room was completely empty and I was allowed to choose whichever shower I wanted. Another advantage was the opportunity to take my time without being scolded by girls who, incredibly, managed to be even later than I. The warm water soothed my injured knee, and I was barely limping when I casually dragged myself back to my room, towel wrapped securely around my body, holding in the residual heat for just a little longer.

Upon reaching the door, I paused, surprised to see it almost closed, a sliver of light bisecting the hallway floor, when I clearly remembered leaving it wide open. While it was not uncommon to receive visits from one of the sisters - mostly looking for _contraband_ \- they knew I liked my Saturdays morning and usually were kind enough to reserve their inspections to another time, which obviously worked well for me.

Remembering the weed paraphernalia I'd carelessly left on my nightstand, I hesitated by the door, listening for any sign that I'd been caught. But everything was quiet. Perhaps a draft coming through the open window had pulled the door closed, I reasoned. Still, I could feel my heart pounding as I pushed the door and peeked inside.

My mind spiraled out in conflicting emotions. On one hand, I was relieved to see that Delphine was the intruder, and not one of the sisters, but at the same time, my heartbeat sky rocketed when my eyes landed on the tall, lean figure peering out the window. She was standing next to my unmade bed and dangerously close to the nightstand, where the little, black bag lay open for anyone to see the evidences of my crimes.

In loose denim jeans and a thick brown sweater, an attire she clearly reserved for the weekends, Delphine looked at me with the tiniest grin on her lips.

"Oh, hi..." my voice trailed off, surprised to see her in such a relaxed posture.

"Bonjour, Cosima," she said lightly, her voice ringing like a balmy spring breeze.

I shook my head, as if that simple gesture would be enough to pull me out of the daze I was in. It worked to some extent, and I strode across the room to the nightstand, mindful of the towel and pulling it tighter with my arm, not because I feared the cold - that thought had passed the instant I saw her - but to maintain some semblance of dignity. I threw what I'd been carrying on the bed and zipped shut the small bag and stored it on the dresser, under the shirts, where I usually kept it.

Delphine snorted at my diligence and after I was done, I quirked a brow. "It's like you want to get caught," she said on in a soft, playful tone.

"I was not expecting company," a smirk comes out of nowhere and graced my lips.

For a long moment, we remained silent, the awkwardness of the situation finally getting to us when I noticed her eyes skittering over me and saw a sudden redness taking over her features until she turned around. I took that opening to look for something to wear, quickly opening a drawer and reaching for underwear which I worked as fast as I could up my legs. The hurried motion drawing a gasp at the pain from my injured knee, momentarily forgotten until then.

"How's your knee?" Delphine asked, obviously reading the cause of my protest, but not looking at me.

"It has seen better days," I answered, pulling a sweater over the towel that I kept around myself.

It was only then that Delphine turned her head, just enough to see me out of the corner of her eye. "Do you mind if I..." she stopped and turned around completely. "Let me see!" She said in a stronger voice, but remained at the window.

I sat on the edge of the bed and nodded once, watching her approach me with slow but steady steps. Once in front of me, Delphine paused, worrying her bottom lip briefly before she sat next to me. After that small hesitation, her movements became fluid. With her hand on my shoulder, she urged me shift slightly, and then with that same hand, she reached for the back of my bruised knee, encouraging me to raise my leg and plant the foot on the mattress. Self-consciously, I adjust the towel around my legs to keep myself as covered as possible, while both her hands probed my leg, the tip of her fingers inspecting the tender flesh around the injury, causing me to bite down a wince. I don't know what Delphine was expecting to see, but it never crossed my mind to ask her about it or to pull my leg back and cut short her examination. In fact, the only coherent thought that came to my fuzzy mind was how delicate her impossibly cold hands felt against my skin.

"Delphine," I croaked when I felt the hand on the back of my knee grew tighter, not uncomfortably so, but firm nonetheless.

She raised her eyes to me and it was as if I could see her thoughts returning to the present from wherever they'd been, a small glimpse of sadness in her expression made my heart break a little, until she recovered some of her usual aplomb with a clear of throat.

"Looks like you won't be able to ride a bike for a few days," Delphine murmured, her hands not moving but relaxing her grip.

"I can do it, as long as we go slow," I offered lightly, the double meaning it could entail only occurring to me once the words were already spoken.

A small chuckle and a curt nod told me it was not lost on her and that, somehow, she was comfortable with the accidental insinuation.

"Do you want to go then?" She asked, her thumb absentmindedly starting to trace patterns along the side of my knee.

"Now?!" My voice laced with surprise and a lack of control.

She shook her head. "After lunch. Unless you have plans…"

"No, no…" I cut in quickly, not bothering to hide my eagerness. Even if that was possible, what was the point? "Let's do that!"

"Okay," she nodded one more time, her eyes moving lower to where her fingertips continued to spread goosebumps on my skin.

As if catching herself, Delphine rose quickly to her feet and crossed to the door. "I'll meet you outside," she said just before she left.

"Yeah… okay…" I said to no one, still mesmerized by her invitation and missing the chill her touch left on my skin.

As it usually happened on the weekends, the cafeteria was mostly empty and, due to the low turnout, several sisters had lunch with the few students that stayed in. A long table was occupied with all of us, the seats reserved for each person, more out of tradition than strict rules and, despite our apparently recent approach, Delphine was already at her customary seat on the opposite end of the table from where I had my meals. She gave me a small smile once she noticed me, but soon returned her attention to the tray in front of her.

I tried to keep up with the conversation that was thrown my way; the sisters often used this reprieve to ask about our studies and feelings in general. It's something that I normally enjoyed. Talking with them helped me not feeling so lonely, even if they were aware of my… proclivities, not once had they made me feel like a less deserving human being, their religious beliefs were never in the way of making me feel welcome. Strangely enough, the sisters were much more open minded than my fellow colleagues and if I felt out of place in the catholic boarding school it was because of the other students, never the women who ran the place. Of course, being one of their best students helped in that acceptance.

However, that day, I rushed lunch. The moment I saw Delphine getting up and carry her tray, I all but swallowed down the rest of my meal and stuffed the apple in my pocket, in a hurry to take my leave. I went up to my room and looking out the window saw that a light rain had started to fall, giving the illusion that the air was thick with fog. Fearing that the weather could ruin our plans for the afternoon, I wasted no time in grabbing a hooded sweater and quickly made my way downstairs.

My fears were unjustified it seemed, since Delphine was already there with her eyes on the sky and a small frown, while she kept herself just inside, safe from the rain, dressed in a coat that provided protection from the rain.

I stopped next to her and, like her, looked up at the white clouds. "Do you think it will hold?"

Momentarily her eyes moved to me, the pale reflexion of the sky making the subtle green speckles in her eyes brighter. "I don't think so," Delphine answered, her gaze once again settled ahead and giving a determined step forward.

I smirked and followed her lead, pulling the hood to my head. Light steps carry her straight to the abandoned shed but stopped at the entrance with a raised brow, waiting for me, still not wishing to go inside. I laughed to myself as I dragged the door open and rolled the bikes to where she was standing.

We didn't talk for a while, keeping a relaxed pace as we rode along the dirt path that lead to an area of the woods where the trees grew thicker; shadows of branches covered in green leaves covering the way. The occasional large drop of water fell on my head or shoulders, causing a temporary uncomfortable chill that quickly disappeared with the effort of peddling.

"So, where are we going?" I asked after ten minutes of companionable silence.

Delphine took her eyes off the path to stare at me for a couple of seconds. "Wherever we want," she replied in a carefree voice. "Unless you're already tired..." she teased.

I snorted. "No, not at all! But we need a destination of some sort," I defended. "I don't think I've ever been this far from school and my orientation skills suck."

She slowed down even more and we were moving at an almost sluggish pace. "I'm good at orientation," she commented with a proud grin.

"Don't tell me you were a girl scout," I mocked lightly.

She laughed and her hand left the handle to weakly punch the side of my shoulder. "Non," Delphine answered in fake annoyance. "When I was at my _grand-maman_ I used to roam around the small village she lived in. I became quite the explorer!"

My laugh grew as a mental image came to mind.

"What?" That time she sounded honestly upset.

"Sorry," I said, trying to control my giggles. "I just find it hard to picture you running around the woods and getting dirt all over yourself."

Delphine stopped and slid off the bike without warning, her eyes shifting back at me to see if I'd do the same and I couldn't help my grin to spread upon seeing a little pout on her lips.

"I did!" She offered when I caught up to her, our bikes rolling next to us. "I scratched my knees countless times too and didn't make a big deal about it like you did yesterday."

I briefly paused, the indignation in her tone making me wonder if I'd crossed a line. Delphine took the bike off the path and carried it deeper into the woods, but when she looked back, I saw a taunting smile that promptly made me follow her.

"Why don't you go there anymore?" I bravely asked, remembering the last and only time we'd talked about her past. "It sounds like you really liked it."

She didn't immediately shut me down, though. With a thoughtful expression she scanned our surroundings and, finding a big, smooth, gray rock, green moss stuck on the sides, moved to sit there, not caring that it would cause her jeans to get wet and dirty.

"My mother remarried and that place belongs to my grandmother on my father's side," she explained in a sad, weak voice.

"So that man who comes with your mother...?" I didn't finish, Delphine was already shaking her head. "But you still see your father, right?"

"I was nine when they divorced, somehow my mother found a way to keep him away from me," she was starting to sound angry. "I suspect it has a lot to do with the indecent amount of money my _new dad_ has." Delphine said darkly and picked up a loose small rock, frustratingly aiming it at the closest tree with impressive accuracy.

With measured steps, I approached her, my knee complaining as I made my way up the improvised seat, slipping slightly in the moss. I sat as closed as I dared, keeping our shoulders barely touching while I adjusted for a comfortable position.

"I'm really sorry, Delphine," I said under my breath, my head turned in her direction.

"Why?" She asked bitterly.

I ignore the little bite in her voice and just shrugged. "No one deserves that," I simply stated, not really knowing what else to say.

"Yes, no one deserves to know that their mother is a gold digger that ships her daughter to a fucking boarding school far away from everything and everyone she knows," Delphine vented and I let her, quietly hearing her getting increasingly aggravated, with my stare on the wet leaves covering the ground. "Who thinks it's acceptable to leave me in a strange country with a different language that she didn't even bother to be sure I knew. All this without asking me about it first, the only fair warning I had was arriving home to find luggage at the doorstep of my bedroom. Yeah... Nobody deserves that!" She concluded fiercely.

As the composed veneer of Delphine's facade cracked I said nothing, nor did I have a comforting word to give her once she finished. It never occurred to me that someone like her, who always seemed so in control, could have that much anger inside. And yet, when I really stopped to think about it, it made sense. Otherwise, why would she need to keep her emotions in check if not out of fear of what would happen if she allowed them free reign? Before that moment I didn't think it possible, but that was when I realized Delphine could be too emotional, and judging by what little I'd seen so far, I had no doubt that she'd scorch the earth around her, leaving no soul behind. On the other hand, my young mind started to wonder what would be like if she was not controlled by anger, but by much more docile emotions; what would happen then?

"Damn Delphine, that really blows," I said, trying to ease the tension, "but think of it this way: at least you got to know me."

My lame try at humor caused a weak smile to appear as glossy eyes moved to me. "Umm, c'est vrai..." she confirmed softly.

"Can you imagine how much more awful your life would be if that didn't happen?" I went on, encouraged by her grin growing and the softening of her features. "You've got to admit that your life is much more interesting with me in it!"

She started to laugh freely. "I think you're pushing it too far now."

"Oh yeah?" I challenged, my motions becoming more lively, the casualness of our little banter dragging me closer to her. "With whom would you work if not yours truly? Have you seen the other girls? That's a terrible bunch! I mean... I know they are your friends, but c'mon..."

"They're not my friends," Delphine dropped casually and I suddenly stopped my ridiculous monologue.

There was not a hint of sadness in the way she said it, not a sign that, in admitting something like that, she felt remorse or anger, not even a little bit upset by the honest reply she'd given me. Instead she said it as a simple observation, because it probably was - even for her. As I'd come to realize during the time we've spent together, Delphine's self-awareness was miles ahead of the other girls our age, perhaps even from me, and that simple statement only solidified this notion. That was when I was sure it wasn't my infatuation with the beautiful blonde that caused me to imagine things; it was an undeniable fact. Delphine was indeed like no one I've ever met before.

On the other hand, I suspected that she hid this aspect of herself when she was around other people. She clearly didn't consider them friends, but it didn't mean that the other students felt the same - actually I was pretty sure our colleagues remained ignorant of Delphine's true nature. So, the way I saw it, there were two reasons for it, and they weren't necessarily mutually exclusive. Either Delphine didn't care and let them think whatever they liked, or she allowed them their delusion in order to benefit from being the popular girl. Whichever situation was true, it came with a burden: people got too interested in her life and I had a feeling she was not okay with that.

"Maybe you should get some real friends then..." I said quietly, my eyes on her and a weak smile on my lips. She hummed and said nothing else. "Do you want to talk about what happened yesterday in the courtyard?" I asked, because I had the feeling that her sudden change might somehow be connected with it.

Delphine looked away from me and became faintly agitated. "No," she answered curtly.

"Okay," I yield easily, not remotely interested in disturbing her any further. My curiosity quickly fading under the prospect of shattering the peaceful mood we found ourselves in.

"Can we just stay like this?" She urged gingerly, her arm moving to wrap around my own.

"Yeah… of course," I choked, my head nodding vigorously.

Not a moment had passed when I felt her head come to rest on top of my shoulder, her body crossing the boundary of my personal space, leaning against me. If she noticed the ragged breath I took, she gave no sign. The same way I never knew if she realized how rapidly my heart started to beat when I felt her hand moving down my arm and her long, cold fingers fill the space between my own. I thought I heard her sigh gently, but I could never be sure at the time; my mind was too clouded to be sure of anything, and clarity was not an option when her thumb started to brush with the most delightful of touches along the back of my hand.

The wind whispered between the leaves of the tree right above us, making a few drops of water to fall around us and the gentle sound of the woods becoming a gracious soundtrack to our silence.


	16. Rules of Engagement

Delphine pushes over the speed limit, the old motor of the SUV loudly complaining at the treatment. She says nothing, eyes focused on the road ahead. The traffic is too sparse to warrant this level of concentration, and the silence is gradually leaving me unnerved. While I know that she's capable of long periods of quiet contemplation, I find myself wanting to cut through it; to say something to put an end to the tension bubbling inside me. As an alternative, I reach out to turn the radio on, hearing smooth jazz fill the space between us. I touch the dial to scan for other stations until she swats my hand away.

With her eyes still on the road, Delphine changes the station back to where it was. "My car, my rules!" She warns pointedly.

I smile at myself and let it go, turning back to the window to watch the large country homes go by as we approach the city limits.

"Any plans for your free afternoon?" I ask once the urban skyline comes into view.

"Yes," she replies shortly. "You?"

I have half a mind to stop by the safe house, perhaps try to contact Ms. S. I know she won't like it, but given the growing tension of the last couple of days, it might be a good idea.

"Nope!" I tell her.

Delphine glances at me, an eyebrow quirking up before she looks ahead again. I observe a thoughtful expression crossing her face, her full, bottom lip nagged by her teeth for a fraction of a second. And I simply know her too well - or at least, I think I do. My mind reels back to a time when such a sight was enough to provoke a distinct coil in my gut and awake desires that I didn't have the maturity to understand, let alone control. Now, as an adult, I can easily identify the tell-tale signs of lust, not that it helps me control them. The inside of the car becomes excruciatingly warm, the space seeming to close in on me and the coat, which I ridiculously left on, tightens around my chest as my breathing becomes deeper.

We're stopped at a red light when she fully turns to me, her hands grip the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles even paler than normal. Delphine holds my gaze for a few seconds and there's not a doubt in my mind that she's completely aware of my undisguised leering. She squints briefly and drops her stare.

"I know this is not what we agreed on, but you can come with me if you want," she proposes in a flat tone, and I can't tell if this is something she truly wants or if she's just being polite.

"Okay," I say without hesitation. My previous plans going down the drain for the simple possibly of spending time with her, shutting down the part of my brain that's chastising me for being so eager, condemning me for how easily I ignore the promises I made to my partners. In part, this decision is a conscious one; a curiosity of rediscovering Delphine is strong, but not uncontrollable. I believe, that if I put my mind to it, I could fight it back, but like an addict, the prospect of losing this opportunity is devastating. I know I can resist her, I simply don't want to.

"Bien," she says under her breath and the small smirk that appears on her lips when she puts the car back in drive is completely disarming.

We arrive downtown and Delphine, clearly familiar with the area, finds an underground parking lot. As soon as we stop, I'm out of the car, welcoming the cold air and the smell of carbon monoxide that perpetually impregnates the garage with a deep breath.

"Okay, so what's in the agenda?" I ask when she emerges.

"I need to buy a couple of things," Delphine doesn't reveal much as she opens the back door, slides on her coat and retrieves a black purse from the backseat.

"What sort of things?" I press and I know I sound curious, but I can't resist the urge to break her composure.

She narrows her eyes while we're stopped waiting for the elevator doors to open. There's a shift in her gaze, a sudden glimpse of recognition and a corner of her lips twitches up again, not giving me an answer as she steps into the elevator.

Outside, the air is cold, but the life within the city cuts through it; the tall buildings don't let the real cold get in - not like back at the Webster's estate. I take in a deep breath, filling my lungs with the smell of greasy street food as the noise of the constant traffic and people shouting all around us allows a hint of a smile to claim my lips. I feel like I'm home, or at least as close as I have to one. I'm a city dweller and it doesn't matter where I am in the world, because while each city has its own smells and sounds, it's the vibrance in them that breathes life into me. The big urban centers with the alleys that smell like piss and wet garbage, the rude people who'll turn a murderous glare at you for accidentally bumping into them, and the occasional act of compassion that manages to surprise me - I love it all.

"Come," I feel more than hear Delphine's voice next to my ear, as she links her arm around my elbow and pulls me with a gentle tug.

I open my eyes to a smiling Delphine, her face so close to mine that the entire city disappears and all that's left is her. It's Delphine's perfume and natural scent. It's the shades of browns, golds, and greens of her hazel eyes. It's blonde curls cascading down soft features and tickling at my cheeks. I swallow dryly and she knows. Not that I've ever doubted it, but she has known all along the influence she has on me. There was a time I made no secret of it. But there is a difference now; now she teases at it, provokes and taunts it out to play. And if in the past the consequences would've been a broken heart, today the stakes are much higher.

This time I don't allow the addiction to control me and pull back from her; not too abruptly, but turn my head to let the city become my focus instead of her.

"Lead the way," I say, extending my free arm.

She smirks and gives another little tug at my arm. "So, I have some dress shopping to do," she offers casually, her heels clicking on the ground with every light step that carries us. "Then I was thinking we could stop for something to eat and kill some time."

"Sounds like a plan," I mutter, letting her lead me, enjoying far too much the easiness of this whole situation, noting, to my surprise, that none of this feels artificial or forced.

The sidewalk is not too crowded, most people are still at work, and those who are out, look busy, talking low on the phone with hurried strides. We haven't walked too long before Delphine is pulling me inside an upscale boutique, where we are received by a young woman. Tall, with straight, blond hair, she stops herself for a brief moment, blue eyes assessing me with a discontented frown that only deepens when her gaze lands on my dreadlocked hair. She quickly regains herself and stretches a forced smile across her lips.

"Good afternoon, my name is Brenda and I'll be your assistant for today," she presents herself in an all too cheerful voice, looking at Delphine after clearly deeming me unworthy of her attention.

"Hello, Brenda," I say in the same cheerful pitch, just to get under her skin.

"I'm looking for a formal dress," Delphine adds, not wasting time with pleasantries, and despite my jab, she doesn't distance herself from me. While her hand has left my arm, she remains close.

"Any particular requests, Mrs..." Brenda returns, after giving me an ugly look.

"Ms.," Delphine corrects her, "Ms. Cormier and no, I come with an open mind."

"Very well," our helper clasps her hands together and licks her lips, probably thinking about the huge bonus in the horizon. "Why don't we go into the private room and get started?

"We're going to begin with a selection of our several models and we can go from there," she continues as she guides us to the back room. "If there's something you like but don't agree with the color, we can arrange that, although you might have to wait a week or two."

"Actually, I'm in a bit of a hurry, so that really doesn't work for me," Delphine states in a voice that invites no discussion. She's completely at ease dealing with the snobbish woman.

"Oh, I'm sure we can find something you like," Brenda dismisses with a large smile. "Is there something I can get you while you wait?"

"No, thank you," Delphine answers curtly.

Brenda gets the message and soon is leaving us to arrange dresses for Delphine to see.

"You should make her rummage through the store looking for the perfect dress and then leave without buying shit," I propose, with my eyes still on the door.

I sense Delphine move and turn in time to observe her drop her purse on the couch and remove her coat, draping it on the armrest. "While that would be fun, I'd still be without a dress that I desperately need," she says, sitting on the couch and gracefully crosses her legs.

I follow her lead, although I'm not nearly as graceful as her when I shrug off my coat and heavily drop on the comfortable seat.

"Big event coming up?" I prompt, not sure what sort of rules guide our relationship.

"You could say that," Delphine replies cryptically.

I hum, finding it impossible to tear my eyes away from her, even if I'm keeping it discreet. She seems somewhat tense however, and I don't think it has anything to do with my presence as much as with the place we're in. Delphine sits with her spine straight, seemingly unable to relax into the couch, and her facial expression reveals nothing about what's going through her mind. Perhaps this is just the way one's supposed to act in places like this - I wouldn't know. And yet, despite the confidence she exudes, my mind continues to struggle with the notion that this is all Delphine is these days. I can't believe that the part of her that brought us together in the past, that made me feel like we could've had common characteristics is dead.

I'm pulled out of my thoughts by the door opening and Brenda entering with an impressive number of dresses that she hangs on hooks for Delphine to appraise. She rises and approaches them with a frown, and without a word, Delphine immediately discards the two short dresses that were brought, picking them up and carelessly placing them in the arms of the giddy employer.

"It's not a cocktail party," Delphine says in an abrasive tone. Then she takes in her hands a lime green dress and gives it the same treatment. "And stay clear of bright colors; I'm not going to prom," her voice remains demanding, just on the edge of rudeness.

After the purge, only two dresses survive and Brenda is feeling much less self assured. During the entire show, I watch silently from my place on the couch, a smirk on my lips that I refuse to hide, thinking how odd it is to find the whole thing terribly entertaining. My mirth is only increased by the fact that Brenda only becomes more solicitous after Delphine dismisses her to scavenge for more dresses, this time with a more severe guideline.

"I should feel sorry for the girl," I comment the moment we're alone.

"Don't," Delphine says sharply, selecting a burgundy dress with a cross pattern made by several straps on the back. "I've come here several times and she continues to act like it's my first visit."

My grins widens. "And how could she forget someone like you..."

"Exactly!" She says with a hint of humor, carrying the dress with her into the changing room and softly closing the door. "I've dealt with people like her longer than I care to think about," her voice travels through the door and I can hear rustling while she changes. "The nicer you are to them, the more rude they become."

"So why not pay them the same courtesy..." I lean back on the couch, my shoulders drop slightly while I take a deep breath and extend my arm on the headrest.

"Thats right!"

"Then why don't you go elsewhere?" I ask, raising my eyebrow. "You know... where they aren't so pretentious..."

Delphine doesn't answer me, and all I can hear is her moving around on the other side of the door. There's a small gap beneath it and I can see her putting her shoes back on, the lower seam of the dress falls loosely, covering her ankles and leaving just the tips of her heels in display. She opens the door and takes a small step in my direction, her eyes quickly looking down at me, but I can't hold her gaze. Instead, my eyes move over her slender form, the dress appearing to be tailor-made for her, hugging her curves in a way that leaves little to the imagination about what lies beneath the soft material.

"Because they have amazing dresses," she finally responds, as her hands smooth their way along her hips slowly as she turns this way and that in front of the full-body mirror.

I stir uncomfortably on the couch, my comfort quickly fading, and I sit up, swallowing a whimper that threatens my dignity.

"I can see that," I remark in a thick voice, unable to pull my eyes away from the hints of skin that the dress leaves tantalizing revealed on her back.

"You like it then?" She asks with a knowing smile.

I can't shake the feeling that Delphine's doing this intentionally; that for whatever reason, she's testing to see how far she can push before I crack. And yet, this could not have been premeditated; it was not her idea for us to spend any sort of time together. In fact, she has been avoiding me almost the entire time since my arrival. So, perhaps this just fell into her lap and she decided to make the best of it... at my expense, of course.

I clear my throat and will some of the tension away, returning to my previous position. "I approve," I answer in the most detached manner I can muster.

She smiles, apparently amused by my little display of rebellion.

"I do too," she says with a small sparkle in her eyes, which are focused on mine attentively, scrutinizing me. "But I'd like to try a few more."

As if on cue, Brenda knocks on the door and I don't think I've ever hated someone I know so little about with such ferocity, but I wish she could just evaporate.

"Well... Look at you," she comments gleefully. "You look stunning!"

I roll my eyes, mentally demanding her to just leave the dresses she brought and make herself vanish. However, Brenda lingers; walking around Delphine with the judgmental air of someone enjoying an expensive piece of art. While that's to be expected, it's the complete lack of affection that gets to me and, in my mind, I've already deemed this Brenda person undeserving of the privilege.

"Thank you," Delphine mumbles, the flirtatious timbre and fluidity of movement from moments ago is conspicuously absent.

I glare at Brenda. "You can just leave those!" I say abruptly, not bothering to be subtle about wanting her gone.

She looks at me with unfriendly eyes, clearly taken aback at my unpolished manners. She turns her attention to Delphine, certain she'll find an ally in the blonde woman, but finds herself faced with a cold smile and a head nod in the door's direction.

Delphine looks at me with a raised eyebrow, seemingly surprised by my sudden abrasiveness and I realize now that it's something she's really never seen before. I suppose she never imagined I was capable of being this blunt. Although I've not always been kind to her, I certainly have never been so openly rude, especially if unprovoked. And while it's something I don't do often, it surely isn't the first time I've used these methods to turn away unwanted attention.

"She was overstaying her welcome," I shrug it off, a modicum of my control returned.

A sly grin shapes her lips. "She was," her agreement comes right before she spins on her heels to select another dress. "What do you think?" She asks, turning a look my way over her shoulder.

I purse my lips and leave her glorious vision momentarily to take a better look at the dresses displayed on the hangers. Even without looking, I can sense that she continues to stare at me as I slowly rise from the couch and take the three small steps to stand next to her. I reach forward and pass my fingertips along the collection of soft fabrics.

"You know... it would be easier if I knew what sort of event you're shopping for," I say without looking at her, but feeling her presence next to me, warming my skin.

"It's a formal diner," it's the only explanation she offers after a long pause.

I hum and look at her for a brief moment, noticing her features harden and I can't believe that after all this time I can still feel an irrational connection to her that crosses the line of simple empathy. Instead of getting stuck in this, I decide to move forward - it won't do any good to dwell in the past.

I return my attention to the task at hand. "What do they say?... You can't go wrong with black." I say, picking up a black dress, elegant in its simplicity, a large strap holds it at the back of the neck.

Delphine quietly accepts it and takes it with her into the dressing room. While I wait, I sit back on the couch, crossing my legs and resuming my relaxed position. My eyes travel to the bottom of the stall without permission and watch as her feet move out of a sea of deep red, only to step into black, soft fabric and high heels.

My mouth goes dry and my stomach drops the instant she opens the door, still adjusting the dress around her waist. Just like the previous one, the fitted design of the dress accentuates the delicate curves of her body, but the black makes a delicious contrast with the paleness of her skin, and the bold red lips grant her an elegance that only a blessed few can hope to achieve. Delphine takes a few steps and stops in front of the mirror and it's only then that I can fully appreciate the low cut on the back. Her freckle dotted, porcelain complexion is on full display; the dip of her lower back revealed just enough to leave you dreaming of what lays beyond. Tight around her hips and the gentle swell of her backside, the dress falls loosely along her legs, with a long silt that starts on her left mid-thigh, again allowing just a glimpse of the perfection that's hidden and giving the illusion she's even taller.

My body reacts on instinct. An uncomfortable heat settles in my lower abdomen, causing me to cross my legs more firmly and my arm, previously lazily draped along the back of the couch, grips the soft cushion much harder. It's all I can do to stay put, acutely aware of Delphine stealing a few glances at my reflection in the mirror.

"I think we have a winner," she says casually and I can easily see the self-satisfied smirk when she meets my eyes in the reflection. "I knew I could count on your... good instincts."

I match her smirk, but continue to feel the tension coursing my body. "You should be ashamed to be playing me like this," it's an half-hearted complaint, more due to the circumstances than the situation itself.

Delphine turns around and looks straight at me. "I'm not playing you," she states, "you're help is invaluable. And...reactions speak so much louder than words."

"Well, you look fucking gorgeous," I say plainly. "Not that I need to tell you that."

My candidness seems to catch Delphine off-guard; her movements freezing for a brief moment before a more natural smile shapes her lips. I foolishly find myself drowning in her gaze, but don't allow it to swallow me completely as I break our eye contact and clear my throat.

"You should put your hair up, though," despite the self-assurance of my words, my voice still sounds a little broken.

She sighs softly and raises both her hands to her long blonde locks, pulling up and securing them on the back of her head, wisps of curly hair brushing her long neck. "You think?" She asks, her eyes on her own reflection.

"Sure," I encourage in a clearer voice. "It gives you more of an... unobtainable look."

Delphine laughs heartily and allows her hair to fall over her shoulders. "I'll think about it."

A very happy Brenda walks us to the door a little while later. My body feels lighter as we walk down the street, Delphine's arm locked around my elbow, and her other shoulder carrying her purse and the bag with the dress neatly folded and wrapped in delicate paper. Once again, we don't travel too far before we're entering a small bakery, a few elderly women are dispersed at the tables, cups of tea and small pastries in front of them. The conversation is low and they don't even turn our way when we enter. We weave our way to a free table in one of the corners of the small room and, out of habit, I claim the seat facing the front door. A fleeting look of annoyance crosses Delphine's expression as she begrudgingly takes the chair across from me and sets her bag and purse on one of the chairs left empty.

We're not quite settled in when a woman, well into her sixties, with gray hair sternly pushed into a tight French bun, approaches us with a surprisingly kind smile.

"We haven't seen you in a while," she greets Delphine with a heavy French accent.

The blonde gives her an easy smile. "You know I can come too often," she says, "otherwise I'd fall into temptation."

"We should make up for that," the other woman's smile grows wider and leaves with a swift step without asking for our order.

"Regular customer?" I ask with a raised brow.

"I don't live too far and come here for breakfast some times," Delphine replies and her gentle smile remains. "Not as much as I'd like, though."

I look around, taking in the environment of the establishment. There's the sensation of familiarity one gets when walking into a small neighborhood bakery; the soft strains of a piano in the background, quiet conversation, and the small space smells like freshly baked bread and sweet pastries. The display case is filled with all manner of cakes, cookies, colourful macaroons, and flakey croissants, while the back is laden with baskets of various breads, big and small. This could be heaven or hell, depending on how much one can resist gorging themselves.

"I can see why," I return to her. "How long have you been living here?"

"I moved to Boston about two months ago," Delphine replies mechanically.

"From New York?" I probe some more, but careful not to sound too inquisitive.

She nods, but her smile becomes thinner and I can see that this is not a line of conversation she's inclined to continue. Out of the corner of my eye I watch the same woman from before approach us with a tray and pause while she places a plate with two chocolate croissants and two bright pink macaroons - one of each for us, I presume. Taking the pot of tea, she fills our cups, before setting it on the center of the table. All this she does without saying a word, only the same gentle smile.

"How are your mother and stepfather?" I try to make polite conversation, avoiding the long silences she's so found of.

"My mother returned to Paris when my stepfather died two years ago," Delphine answers without emotion. Her delicate fingers reach for one of the croissants and rips one of the edges off with a satisfying crunching sounds and she takes it to her mouth.

I do the same, pleased to see that the croissant is still warm, the flaky dough almost melts in my mouth, the chocolate with touches of hazelnut makes my taste buds hum.

"I would say I'm sorry to hear that, but..." I let it linger as I take a sip from the strong tea.

"Yes, don't bother," Delphine says with her eyes on a little piece of the croissant that she takes no time in eating.

"And how long have you been in the States?" I wish I could keep my curiosity at bay, but for now I'll indulge in it - at least until Delphine makes me stop.

"Seven years," she continues to answer my questions with ease. "I came to New York after I graduated to work at a gallery."

I quirked my brow. "Art?"

She nods and continues to smile. "Well... restoration, really."

I chuckle. "I gotta say, I would've never guessed."

She doesn't look happy with my reaction, but I can't muffle my laughs. "Sorry, I just don't see it."

Delphine pouts in the most adorable way, her eyes sparkling with mischief, and I have before me the girl I once knew. "I never thought you would be some sort of security analyst or whatever you call yourself, so..." she says with that hint of annoyance I so well remember. "How did that happen anyway?"

"It's the sorta thing that falls in your lap," I vaguely answer and I know I shouldn't be feeling so guilty about lying to her. This is just another job, I have to remind myself constantly, because my mind is becoming dangerously unguarded.

I avoid engaging her directly, my eyes focused on my hands as I reach for another generous bite of the croissant and a large sip of tea. When I finally gather the courage to look at her, I'm surprised to see what looks like concern in her eyes. Delphine is completely still, only her fingertips toy on the rim of her cup and she's nervously nibbling her lower lip.

She opens her mouth slightly, as if to speak, but pauses, probably reconsidering her words while she thoughtfully goes for the last of her croissant.

"How long are you going to work for Daniel?" Delphine asks. All the lightness disappeared from her voice.

"I have a one year contract," I answer, scanning her serious expression. "But it's renewable."

She breathes out deeply. "These are not good people, Cosima." There's no denying the warning in her voice, even if she continues to not look me in the eye.

"What do you mean?" I lean forward, my posture tenses and I can feel my heart rate increase.

"Just..." Delphine hesitates and shakes her head. "Never mind..."

My eyes lock on her, and she takes a sip of her tea, staring at me over the rim of the cup.

"And what makes you think I'm a good person?" I challenge.

Her laughter startles me and Delphine looks at me in disbelief, my words obviously carrying no weight.

"You?" She raises her brown. "Cosima, you're probably the kindest person I've ever met."

As she says the words, I can gather that for her, this is an absolute truth.

I smile at her, but it's a tainted thing, plagued by dark thoughts and dark deeds. "If you believe that, you either don't know me nearly as well as you think or that doesn't say much for the people you've met."

Delphine holds my stare, her expression shifts, and the somber mask that appears doesn't waver; only the corner of her lip turns upwards into a contorted smile. "Both are probably true," she says, taking a little time to think on her reply, the reality of her statement, most likely had become obvious some time ago.

We remain in silent contemplation, the tea and small pastries disappearing between exchanged glances, the long periods of silence I dreaded before, now come as welcomed reprieve. When glancing at Delphine becomes too much for me to bear, my eyes roam around the small bakery. I observe the serenity on the expressions of women who have lived long enough to know that it's useless to rush life, and who, contrary to the norm, want time to slow down to enjoy these little moments in life. Delphine has a distracted smile on her lips as she watches the activity on the street getting busier while the afternoon grows longer, and I wonder if she had always known secrets that only come with years of living.

After a quick peek at her wristwatch, Delphine looks at me, a sort of melancholy darkening her bright eyes. "We should get going," she says in the softest voice and stands slowly.

My heart sinks irrationality and my glance falls on my arms crossed over the table. On the edge of my attention, I can hear her exchange a few words and a small laugh with the woman who tended to our needs. Getting up, I locate the restroom and step inside without saying anything, my mind much too occupied with thoughts that have no right being there. And when I finally emerge, Delphine is waiting for me outside by the door, the tip of a cigarette glows as she brings it to her lips and a weak smile takes its place once she notices me.

The drive back feels too short, even with the lack of conversation, and the same low jazz music that gives too much room for my mind to wander fills the silence. She sighs deeply while we wait for the gates of the estate to open and I can't bring myself to look at her, afraid I'll see relief in her expression instead of my own disappointment brought on by the end of our day. The night has fully set, and the winter moon is already high in the sky, its crescent face partially obscured by clouds when Delphine parks in her usual place. Even so, after unlocking our seat belts neither of us move. The yellow lights coming from the windows of the big house providing just enough light inside the vehicle.

She exhales again, grasping the steering wheel with a tight grip. "I had a good time," she says so softly that I'm not sure she actually said the words or if it was meant for me to hear them at all.

It's only when I dare look at her again and see the small smile that I have confirmation.

"Yeah..." I force the corner my lip to curl up. "Me too."

Unable to take this any longer, I twist to reach for the coat which I had thrown in the back seat. She moves suddenly, catching me by surprise when she grabs my right wrist. When I turn to her, I find her looking not at the shocked expression on my face, but at the art on my arm. The complex design of the tattoo on the interior of my wrist was what caught her attention and where her eyes are pinned. I roughly pull my arm back and tug the sleeve of my shirt down before grabbing my coat and getting hastily out of the car. The cold air doesn't have enough strength to come as a shock; my body is burning with a volatile temperament I thought I had left behind me many years ago.

"Cosima, wait!" I hear her call as I walk as fast as I can without running in towards the cottage, her quick steps clacking on the small rocks under her feet.

I turn around and let her catch me when I realize that it's better to be done with this confrontation without risking the possibility that others will read too much into us. Delphine didn't bother with her coat, and the car door is left open in her hurry. She approaches me quickly, and gently grasps my wrist again, tugging my sleeve up slowly once she sees that I'm not pulling back. The tips of long, graceful fingers trace the circular shape, and despite the cold air, it causes my skin to burn wherever her touch is felt - not with anger, but something much more dangerous. My eyes go from her nimble fingers to her face, her lower lip caught between her teeth, glossy golden orbs on the skin she's drawing.

Not to let the emotions get the best of me, I harden my expression and pull my arm back again, although this time not as abruptly. "A reminder of past mistakes," I offer bitterly.

She looks at me and I can see that my roughness did the damage I sought. "You're being unfair," Delphine quietly says, shaking her head.

I narrow my eyes at her. "Am I?"

I don't bother to wait for her response, and quickly turn away to resume my escape, hating that it's a struggle for me not to look at her and take back what I said.


	17. Daydreaming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I got the feeling last chapter that some of you might have been somewhat confused with the end of it, and that's totally my fault for not getting into it a bit deeper. But, as I was writing that last chapter, I was already thinking about this one which sheds some more light into their pass. I also never thought that it would take me so long to complete this one, but I found myself stuck in the little details. Anyway.... I hope this will give you some answers (while probably raise a few more, lol).
> 
> As always, thanks to Cophine, my beta.

When Monday arrived, an annoying knock on the door pulling me from a deep slumber, I felt reality crashing down. The weekend had felt like a dream. Delphine, while keeping some emotional distance, had rarely left my side. A rainy Sunday meant that going out for another tour was out of the question, but we took that opportunity to make a big dent in our work. The absence of students and the resulting curious stares in our direction allowed us to occupy the empty sitting area in the common hall, each of us stretched on a couch, while we completed a rough first draft of our paper. And although the blonde wasn't inclined to share any more of her private life, more than once I caught bright hazel eyes fixed on me with a contemplative gaze, alight with curiosity. Delphine quickly averted her eyes the instant she realized she'd been caught looking, but not without a brief glimpse of a small smile.

But Monday brought a return of the reality that surrounded us and I feared that the gentle ease of our unguarded conversations would evaporate, as if it had all been a figment of my imagination. So, it's no wonder that once I was ready, unsure steps guided me downstairs for breakfast.

The cafeteria was bustling with excited teenagers. Now and then, a laugh rose above all the noise, and although it was something I was expecting, it still came as a shock after the calmness of the weekend. It took a firm hand around my elbow for me to ground myself. My heart jumped and I spun around quickly, hopefulness transforming into disappointment in a fraction of a second.

"Hi Scott," I greeted my friend, unable to keep a slight sadness off my voice.

I was sure he had noticed how distracted I was during the entire meal. It was common for me to bombard him with questions about his weekend, probably to make up for the lack of interesting occurrences in mine. But that day I kept quiet, my eyes constantly scanning the big room, looking for a face that, no matter how hard I searched, I never found. Despite my disappointment, this was not unusual. Breakfast was always a mess and I wasn't exactly among the first to go downstairs. It probably meant that Delphine had been in and out in a jiffy.

What did surprise me was finding Delphine all by herself in the classroom once I got there. Instead of having the usual flock of excited girls around her, she was flipping the pages of a book on the desk, clearly not really reading anything and just keeping herself occupied. Not sure if my approach would be welcomed, I moved to my own desk at the back of the room. I wasn't sure if she noticed when I come in, but halfway through the lecture, as the professor was scribbling something on the blackboard, Delphine looked over her shoulder, meeting my eyes that were glued to the back of her head and showed me a small smile which I immediately returned.

Even more amazing was her coming to me at the end of the class, standing in front of my desk, the smile on her lips still subtle.

"I missed you at breakfast," she said, the volume of her voice low, keeping others from eavesdrop on our conversation. Even so, at least she no longer moved her eyes from me to assure that no one else was hearing.

I frowned, noticing a few pairs of eyes landing on us. "Yeah... I was a bit late," I answered, my hands ceasing the attempt to put some order on my desk when she leaned her back against it.

The remainder of our colleagues were moving outside in slow steps, excited whispers exchanged were joined by a few more glances our way before we were left alone. It also didn't escape Delphine, who clenched her jaw a few times with an annoyed expression and sighed heavily once everyone had gone.

"You know what they're saying, right?" I got up and stopped in front of her, but kept a respectable distance.

"Of course, I'm not thick," she confirmed, irritation on her tone, the French cadence on her words spiked by it, her lips forming a thin line.

The small demonstration of annoyance brought a smirk to my lips. "You don't seem terribly worried about the demise of your social status."

"You're the one who said I should get new friends," Delphine shrugged, the smile returning to her lips when she lowered her stare to meet my eyes.

"Oh dude, I can't believe you've followed my advice," I waved both my hands in front of us.

"Why shouldn't I?" She raised a brow. "It was good advice."

"So... That was the reason of all the commotion the other day on the courtyard?" I asked, but I really didn't need a response.

"You know better than anyone how people like to talk, whether it's true or not," Delphine said, her head hanging low and bracing herself with the hands gripping tightly the top of the desk behind her. "You were right," she added in a whisper.

I snorted. "It must be hard for you to admit that," I teased.

Delphine seemed amused when she met my eyes again and the moment of silence between us stretched longer than I wanted. It gave me too much time to question myself about what it all meant; where did we go from there. Was my seemingly undying hope finally paying off? Or was I wrong? Delphine's emancipation could mean just that: she was simply tired of following the norm and doing what everyone was expecting from her. It certainly seemed demeaning for the girl I've come to know and admire. Breaking the shackles of conformity.

Before I gathered the courage to ask her about it, students were returning to the classroom, even though the break would go on for another five minutes. Stares and gossip coming with them. I thought I saw a flash of disappointment, not unlike my own, in Delphine's eyes when she slowly returned to her desk.

For the next two days the rain pinned us to the building and our options were significantly limited. To Delphine's credit, she didn't falter in her resolve. Scott couldn't hide the shock he felt when the beautiful blonde joined us for lunch, tray in hands and a determined stride, she approached our table and sat next to me.

"Scott," she greeted with a head nod and a large smile when the startled boy answered her with murmured, indecipherable words.

"You've got to excuse him," I said, my hand aiming at my friend across the table. "Scott has communication issues."

"Oh... I see," she acknowledged gently and continued to smile.

Despite that initial awkwardness, Scott quickly adjusted to the new and completely unexpected reality. The transition made easier by Delphine, who had absolutely no difficulty in charming the boy - not with her staggering beauty or innate appeal, but with her mind. In no time, the conversation evolved to discussing any particular subject it was raised in class. It's true that I enjoyed every minute of it, satisfied to be proven right by the blonde, making Scott see why it was so easy to be held captive by Delphine, that it wasn't simply my raging hormones out of control.

Meanwhile, Delphine grew more comfortable around us with incredible ease. If my usually shy friend adapted fast to the new reality, our new companion, like a chameleon, changed her colors. Instead of the cold distance with which she carried herself the last year and a half, she showed a new, warmer and more inviting personality. She was still stubborn when pushed and unreserved about calling me out on something she disagreed with, but much less confrontational.

In a matter of days, Scott believed he had made a new friend and had all but forgotten the stories about the cold, heartbreaking bitch he'd heard about.

Yes, it was all fine, but I had a selfish side, it seemed. Not that I didn't mind sharing Delphine's attention with my long time friend, but what I really wanted was time alone with her, when we could talk freely without worries about how our conversation could be interpreted by others or how our gestures might be judged by malicious minds. Thinking I was alone in these feelings, when the rain had finally stopped, I gave no indication that our plans for meeting after class in the library had changed. Delphine herself mentioned nothing about it when we had lunch together, so after the meal I went up to my room to change and pick up the notebook with the notes on our paper.

To my surprise, the blonde was waiting for me outside the door of my bedroom, leaning against the wall right in front of it, instead of the notebook she usually brought to our meetings, between her crossed arms I saw the large sketchbook. She had a small smile and didn't need to say a word for me to abandon my notebook on the bed. When I turned, she smirked, moving down the stairs with me right behind her.

"We're so ahead on the paper, I thought we could use a break today," she said as we left the main building behind us.

"Yes, we've been working too hard," I agreed feeling giddy, "that can't be healthy."

Delphine took a different path that time, guiding us in the opposite direction we usually took. Despite the lack of rain, low, white clouds over our heads gave the weird sensation of a ceiling in the sky; the air cold but thankfully no wind. The woods around us were silent; no sounds but the leaves we crushed under our feet and the muffled chirping of birds, like it always happened when a big storm approached. We walked deep into the woods for a short time, but the high, untrimmed grass and dense trees were all around us and provided the sense of isolation. The only sound that I eventually heard was water, violently running downstream, swelled by the heavy rains of the last few days. When the stream was in view, Delphine gave a couple of quick steps to stand in front of me, her smile much wider and happiness sparkling in her eyes.

"Come on!" She encouraged excitingly, her hand wrapped around mine and tugging in a guiltless gesture.

A surprised giggle made its way to my lips as the suddenly relaxed girl pulled me a bit more forcefully, causing me to almost lose my footing. The contrast between this girl and the calm and collected person I was coming to know caught me completely off-guard. Still, Delphine's excitement was contagious and I felt my heart leap a few times out of rhythm while watching movements devoid of the carefully contained restrictions she placed upon herself. She paused abruptly, looking around us until her eyes landed on a small, sandy area.

"I want to try something," she said, pulling me again.

"Should I be scared?" I said, looking up at her when she, not so gently, forced me to sit on the sand, hardened by the moisture.

Delphine's smile became teasing, and she slowly lowered herself to sit in front of me, her back resting against a big rock behind her, our crossed legs touching at the knees. "I think you'll be safe," she answered, opening her sketchbook that she sat on the legs. "Mostly," she added with a wink.

"Oh great," I groaned, faking annoyance and running a hand over my face. Peeking between my fingers, I noticed her produce a pen from the pocket of her coat. "What do you have in mind?"

"I don't usually like to do portraits," Delphine informed me distractedly, flipping through large sheets of paper until she found a blank one. "So, you've got to give me some... artistic freedom."

"Okay..." I eyed her suspiciously, removing the hand from my face.

Delphine's eyes went to me and she narrowed them slightly, observing me intensely, and I felt myself blush under her keen interest, holding my breath. She smirked, my reaction not going unnoticed, but she made no comment, only her right hand moved forward, grasping a few strands of my unruly, wavy hair, and gently tucking it behind my back.

"I know this will probably sound tragic to you," she said in a soft voice, leaning back, "but try to stay still."

"Alright!" I croaked, nodding a couple of times and stopping when her stare hardened a bit. "Shit! Still... sorry."

Delphine snorted, shaking her head in weak exasperation. "Amazing..." she murmured.

Taking a deep breath, her facial expression became much more serene, the fingers of her right hand loosening around the pen, and with long strokes, she started to draw. Her eyes moved from the sheet of paper to my face constantly, her brows furrowed in deep concentration while her lips pursed tightly in a thin line, but the occasional little smile appeared to stretch them. How long we spent like this, I don't know; time passed by without me noticing it. Nothing prevented me from watching Delphine as intensely as she was observing me and I gave my eyes free reign to draw in my mind my own picture of her, etching in my brain the elegant curve of her jawline, the shape of her lips and the length of her pale neck.

The pen moved with precise strokes on the sketchbook braced on her crossed legs, Delphine's left arm holding it secure. Long fingers created a picture I could only imagine from where I sat, my back rigid.

As Delphine predicted, after a while I began to feel restless. The first sign of impatience came from my hands. Bored from staying idle too long, they began to fidget with the sleeves of my shirt. In addition, not anticipating that I would be spending most of the afternoon outside, I had left without a coat and an uncomfortable chill was steadily growing against my unprotected back, causing me to involuntarily shift to avoid shivering. Noticing this, Delphine glared at me from time to time, only to return her attention back to her work without saying a word to address my constant moves.

It wasn't until I leaned forward to steal a peek at what she was doing that Delphine quickly hid the drawing against her chest and scolded me. "You need to stay still!" She stated firmly.

"I'm getting cold," I finally complained.

Her movements froze suddenly, as if only then noticing my inadequate clothes, her eyes sweeping over my body. "Oh... I'm sorry," she said in a much lighter tone, her eyes softening. "You should've said."

"So... do I get to see it?" My eyes moved from her features to the sketch still held close to her, raising to my knees and reaching to tip the drawing into view.

She didn't relent, Delphine's arms stiffen harder. "It's not done," she said defensively and before I had any more ideas, she quickly pulled the other sheets down. "We can finish it another day," she concluded.

I twisted my lips, sitting back down on my knees, watching Delphine place the large notebook aside and dropping the pen on top of it, only to have it roll down the inclined surface and land on the sand. Both of us reached for it, but because it had rolled in my direction, I picked it up. Delphine's hand stopped just short of mine and after only a hint of hesitation, I saw her fingers wrap around my wrist, the cold digits instead of feeling uncomfortable against my skin caused a sudden pull in my lower abdomen, twisting it tightly. A lump quickly rose to tighten my throat when my eyes met hers, bright hazel orbs shifted between my features, a deep breath escaped from Delphine's lips and I swallowed thickly, but remained incredibly still, watching as a plethora of conflicting emotions crossed her beautiful face.

I didn't realize until that moment how her previous rejection had cut so deeply, how the way she pushed me away in the past had affected my confidence. I thought I knew what she wanted, but I've been wrong before. In that instance I didn't make a move, nothing could make me close the distance between us, not even when I saw Delphine quickly lick her lips and trap the bottom one with her teeth. I suppose she understood my reasons, that she wasn't insensitive about what caused me to stand my ground. The smallest smile curled her lips and in her eyes I could see determination grow as she brought her left hand to the side of my neck, with a light tug encouraging me forward.

Our lips brushed gently, the eagerness I felt in my chest pushed aside by the unexpectedness of Delphine's actions. However, unlike before when it was she who'd been surprised, in that moment it was Delphine's lips that engaged mine, soft and tender but with an undeniable conviction behind her gestures. Her lips moved smoothly over mine, attention payed to my bottom lip before she moved to the upper one. I feared that my inexperience was too palpable, the slow exploration made visible my unskilled lips. This was miles away from the rushed kiss was exchanged months ago and it was me who was reaching a tentative hand to her cheek, fingers grazing cold but delicate skin, while I struggled to keep my mouth from becoming too impatient. The task was far from easy and the awkward position we were in made it even more difficult; on my knees and fighting for balance so as not to topple on top of Delphine, but at the same time not wanting to stop, my mind was going in every direction and was unable to settle on only one action.

I whimpered when Delphine pulled me away with a light pressure of the hand she had on the back of my neck, but allowed her to put distance between us, wondering where all my boldness had gone. I opened my eyes and what I saw slightly deflated the swell in my chest. Confusion clouded beautiful features, her brows drawing a picture of doubt and uncertainty. I sighed and sat back, releasing the pen that I was still holding in my free hand and brought both my hands to Delphine's own, which was left abandoned in her lap, stroking the tip of my fingers along the soft skin.

"We don't have to do this," I tried to assure her, my stare locked with hers and holding her hand firmly. "We can just... like, hang out, you know?"

Delphine bit her lips and shook her head. "Non... that's not..." she paused and pulled a deep breath, her eyes lowering to our joined hands and she squeezed my fingers. "I like you, Cosima, but I don't know if I'm ready for this," she confessed in a whispered voice.

I tilted my head and a small smile curved the corner of my lips. "You... you like me?" I choked.

Finally, she rose her stare and showed me a smile of her own. "Of course I do!" She said in a stronger voice. "Do you think I'd spend so much time with you if I didn't?"

My smile stretched wider, self-assurance being rebuilt with every word. "Wow… okay..." I nodded. "I can be patient."

She laughed, a carefree, melodic sound that easily made a home inside of me. "Can you?"

"Sure!" One of my hands came between us and waved energetically. "We won't do anything you don't want to. You're the boss!" I aimed the index at her and winked.

"Bien..."

Her smile turned into a tantalizing smirk when she wrapped the finger pointed in her direction with her free hand and pulled while at the same time unfolding her legs, giving me room to get closer. I hesitated for a brief instant, slowly and probably very ungracefully, I dragged myself to stand before her, vaguely aware that this position allowed me to hover over her, looking down at her sparkling eyes, pink lips curved in a teasing smile. I licked my own lips, pressing them lightly, grasping for the control that I felt slipping away, but, given Delphine's narrowing eyes was unsuccessful to achieve.

"You _can_ kiss me, Cosima," she stated firmly, eyes amused by my struggle. Her right hand curling around my neck and pulling me down for good measure.

_Yeah, I can do that!_ The words locked in my brain, never spoken aloud because her mouth was a lot quicker covering mine and being extremely effective in shutting me up.

Our kisses remained fairly innocent, even if I was growing bolder with every smack of lips or when she deliciously pulled my lower lip between hers. It was much easier than I thought to fall into her rhythm, my lips moved against hers as if I'd been doing it all my life and, while I had daydreamed about it numerous times, I could never been prepared for how incredibly amazing it felt to have Delphine returning my affection, to feel her arms pulling me closer. She kissed me softly, only to respond more fiercely once I rose my hands to cradle her face and tugged at her. When the kisses started to grow too intense, Delphine would pull back, but the tender flesh of her lips remained within reach, as if to lure me back in, teasing, testing the slight control I had on my actions and tempting the pull that was steadily settling in my gut and spreading throughout my entire body.

Before long, Delphine's left hand was dragging on my lower back, gently inviting me to nestle against her body while the fingers of the other hand slowly played with the wisps of hair on the back of my neck. I felt no hesitation on her part when I pushed myself flushed against her, standing on my knees and gaining a few more inches on her. Instead, her hold became firmer around me and she pulled my head further down. I groaned against her mouth and really didn't have time to worry about how Delphine might react; her tongue danced over my lips, just a tender sweep, but enough for me to completely lose my already barely existing control.

I'm sure it wasn't hard for Delphine to feel me tense instantly, every muscle on my body became rigid, my heart was beating uncontrollably and I took a sharp pull of air. This was when she stopped me, tilting her head back, she broke the kiss and I would be a bit more embarrassed had it not been for the obvious difficulty Delphine was having to steady her breathing. It really didn't take much experience to know that it was a good sign, that I was doing something right.

"I think… I think we should stop," Delphine said in a croaked voice, pushing me away just slightly, but the tip of her nose sweetly brushed against mine.

"O...okay…" I struggled to keep the disappointment under control.

"You don't want to," she sounded a little bothered by it.

"No, no... I'm good!" I said quickly, reminding myself of the promise I made to let her set the pace.

She laughed quietly, the hand on the back of my neck dragging along my shoulder to rest on top of my collarbone, over my shirt. "You're a terrible liar."

"You say it like it's a bad thing" I commented, the arms I had resting on her shoulders sliding back a little as I pulled away to look her in the eyes, wondering if I had made a mistake by exposing myself so willingly to her.

"It can be," Delphine nodded slowly, her smile fading. "Being able to lie is a very useful tool."

"There's a depressing thought," I sat back on my bent knees, my body shivering again with the brisk weather.

I said nothing else as I saw the effort the blonde made to chase away the dark thoughts that had seemed to have taken hold of her mind with that simple exchange of words, unable to discern what could be the cause of it.

Delphine frowned, her bright eyes pinning me where I stood and the apparent nervous habit of bitting her lower lip had returned.

I reached out to her, my right hand touching her cheek gently. "Hey..." was the only thing I said, because I really didn't know what else to do.

Delphine sighed, turning her face into my touch and a small smile curled her lips. "Come here," she breathed in a low tone, her hands moving to mine and, with a little pressure, she encouraged me to turn around and lean against her. "I'll keep you warm," I felt her words on the curve of my neck, brushing my skin, while her arms wrapped around my torso, pulling me close.

It was somewhat effective in calming me down. I leaned my head on her shoulder, closed my eyes and basked on the feeling of Delphine's chest rise and fall against my back, my hands moved to cover hers and tugged at them, irrationally wanting to feel her even more, the warmth of her longer frame slowly soaking into mine. Soon, the turmoil had at least slowed and in its place came a comfortable tranquility, but still every single move Delphine made stroked something inside me and I was finding increasingly harder to remain still, my fingers constantly twitching on top of hers, creating nonsensical patterns over her skin. She took a deep breath and her body tensed, before she startled my eyes open by moving. Silently, I watched her reach for the pen I had dropped on top of her sketchbook and grasp my right hand, holding it palm up and resting it on the knee she had raised.

Without a word, she wrapped her left arm around me, pushing my sleeve up, revealing my right wrist. The first circular line she drew caused a slight tingle on my skin and, instinctively, I tried to pull my arm back, but her hold tightened, securing my hand still. The design grew on my wrist with every precise stroke of Delphine's steady hand. After the first thin lines of the draft, she worked around them, giving dimension and depth to the shape, bold lines shadowed the draw. More than once during the process, I held my breath, momentarily forgetting how to breathe, only to pull air sharply into my lungs with a deep sigh. Delphine's own breathing grazed against my cheek, her chin resting on top of my shoulder, allowing her to see her work.

"The nautilus shell," she said in a tick voice against my ear when she was applying the last details. "The golden ratio or the divine proportion. It's replicated all around us: the branches and leaves of the trees, the waves in the ocean, every molecule in our genome, even in the fingers of our hands."

She spoke while I watched the tip of her cold digits slowly trace the length of my fingers, dragging them gently from the palm of my hand to the tips, repeating the motion five times. The combination of her smooth voice and her gestures was causing another hurricane to rise inside me, I swallowed hard and pushed myself closer to her, feeling the arm she still had around me tightening her hold. To this day I have no idea if Delphine was fully aware of how alluring her actions were and if she did, how much of it was to see if I could hold my composure when she wanted me to, but the truth is that she never hesitated, the smooth motions of her fingers dragged steadily over my increasingly sensitive skin.

"Damn, you're a bigger nerd than I am," I murmured, distracted by the feeling of Delphine's arms keeping us close and the gentle reminder of her fingers dragging over my skin.

"It's commonly used in art, especially in the Renaissance," Delphine's fingers persisted in tracing the design she created. "It's considered the perfect combination of balance and beauty."

My eyes remained closed and my mind was drifting between thoughts. "Nothing is perfect, Delphine," I said casually, barely thinking about the words.

"Nature disagrees with you," she countered, the back of the pen tapping the shape on my wrist as if itself provided the evidence to her statement. "Besides, aren't we a tad too young to be that cynical?" Delphine offered in a steadier voice.

I moved my head to the side, eyeing her with a raised brow. "Clearly not," I answered grimly, but a small smile was already on my lips when my eyes met her features.

She hummed softly and brushed her lips against mine, causing my smile to grow into a happy smirk. "I'm sure you can change that opinion," Delphine's voice was a whisper that teased over my mouth, before she dipped her head further and kissed me.


	18. She's Not a Problem!

I enter our cottage with fire in my steps, slamming the door behind me, and straight to my bedroom, ignoring my roommates in the living room. To their credit, neither make an effort to come after me, probably sensing my fury, and they assume it better to leave me be.

I shed my coat and toss it carelessly onto a chair, while my shoes are kicked into a corner as I drop on the bed. I'm more upset with myself than with Delphine, to be honest. I was convinced I had left all of this behind me; that hell would freeze over before I let myself be manipulated by her, deceived by the innocent pose she has apparently mastered over the years. In the few times I allowed myself to ponder what would happen if I ever saw her again, this was definitely not how it would have transpired. When I pictured it in my head, it was Delphine that would be left feeling like this; the one feeling like shit after I'd lain into her all that had been simmering in my mind for years. It might be selfish and even machiavellian, but I wanted her to feel guilty for the pain she'd caused me, for nearly breaking me without repair. I never wanted her to ask for forgiveness either, but if she had a little taste of what it felt like to have all hope stripped out of you, even better.

Yes, in my darkest days, when I had allowed my mind to wander through the somber halls of my memories, I wanted her to suffer. I'm not ashamed to admit it.

Of course in order for my plot to be successful, she had to have lived a very different life than she apparently did. The Delphine in my mind was still the Delphine I knew, frozen in time, without life experiences. We always do this, right? You lose contact with people and they remain the same person you knew. You don't account for the fact that they continue to live their lives despite you not being there. And so she did; carry on with her life into college and a job, eventually finding a man that she deemed worthy of spending the rest of her life with.

What I also didn't predict was how it would actually feel to be with her again. How comfortable it would be to spend time with her, how she would so candidly welcome me into her life, like nothing had happened between us that would disrupt our interactions. In a way, Delphine feels the same. As before, she let me walk into her life. Still with the same boundaries she had set before, still reserved and calm, but not making me feel like I was unwelcome. And I, still the fool, eagerly entered, all the scars that still mar my spirit momentarily forgotten.

But on the other hand, part of me knows she's not the same person. Her new persona is there, in her long silences that feel so much different than before, in the glances she stole when she thought I wasn't looking, in the words of caution she has cryptically said.

There's something more to her, another layer was added in our separation. And, perhaps that's what caught me off guard; why I couldn't bring myself to conjure the more hostile words I had reserved for her during the years between then and now. Either that or I'm a lot dumber than I thought.

It must be the cold that wakes me up, curled into myself, arms hugging my chest and a stiff back from the tension, the temperature must've dropped significantly. I stretch my spine with a groan and blink a few times, waiting for my sight to adjust to the darkness in the room. Only the moonlight sparsely illuminates the small division and, judging by the eerie silence in the house, I know it's late. I sit up and search for my glasses next to the pillows, and swing my legs to the cold hardwood floor. I stand and arch my back again until I hear a pleasant crack. In the pocket of the coat left abandoned on a chair I find my phone and see that it's 5.20. Apparently I fell asleep with my clothes on. Sarah and Felix had not disturbed me the entire night, but that doesn't mean I'm on the clear from their judgment.

I'm as quiet as possible when I cross the hall and make a quick stop in the bathroom, shoes already on and the coat folded over my arm. Next I go to the kitchen, where I waste no time to grab an apple, rinse it under the faucet and leave, closing the door quietly.

With the apple between my teeth, I tug the coat tighter around my chest when I step outside. It had snowed during the night and my feet crunch the little nuggets of ice as I walk. Despite the freezing air the sky is clear, and when I look up I can see millions of little bright speckles covering the dark mantle on the sky. It's quiet all around me, too early for the birds to announce the arrival of a new day and too late for the night creatures to be out on the hunt. I have no destination in mind, I don't even know what lead me to leave the comfort and warmth of the house.

It's ridiculous that I try to convince myself that I don't care when, in between bites of the fruit, I glance in the direction of where the cars are usually parked. The sight of the beaten up SUV causes a painful twist in my gut while my brain scolds in a vicious voice: "what did you expect?"

As if I could chase away the thoughts with physical distance, I walk in the opposite direction. The sound of my steps over the snow seems increasingly louder as I approach the area where the new garage is being constructed. The metal skeleton of the building resembles claws angrily stretching up to scratch the dark sky and sends an irrational shiver down my spine, but I approach anyway. The shadow of the construction doesn't allow the moonlight to reach the area and I turn on the flashlight app on my phone for better visibility. I scan the inside of the building with the beam of light, surprised to see a large pit where open ground should be. It looks like an underground level is being dug under the garage floor, which makes absolutely no sense. The construction is big enough to house at least ten vehicles and it's not like they need another cellar since the one under the main house is fully functional, according to the information S has given us.

Suddenly I hear what sounds like footsteps behind me. Muffled by the soft snow, the unexpected noise sends my pulse into a frenzy, but I still have the quickness of mind to immediately turn off the flashlight and surround myself with pitch-black darkness. I don't dare move, struggling to steady my breathing while my ears strain to catch any other noise. Long minutes pass as I remain still. Failing to see or hear anything else, the tension gradually gives way while I rationalize that it was nothing but a small animal awakened by my light.

Still, as I walk away from the construction site and in the direction of the main house, I dare not turn my light back on, letting the moonlight illuminate my path.

This time my walk leads me to the pool, where I find the chairs and tables sheltered beneath the canopy and drop onto the one facing east. I don't know how long I'm seated, but I do see the blue in the sky become lighter and then turn to an increasingly brighter orange as the sun starts to peek over the horizon, thin, white clouds starting to blanket the sky. With my arms wrapped around my chest and the collar of the coat pulled up to my ears I protect myself from the cold that seeps into my bones from staying still for so long. The sun is almost in full display when, in the distance, I hear the roar of a car; probably Joshua going out for the breakfast run.

My joints complain when I finally get up after hearing that same car return. At the front door of the cottage my suspicions are confirmed by the bag with fresh bread dangling from the doorknob. I get it and move inside the house, I hear someone already taking the morning shower as I carry the bag to the kitchen and start preparing something to eat.

"And you said she wouldn't be a problem..." Sarah's voice comes from behind me when I'm filling my second cup of coffee.

"She's not," I answer flatly without turning to face her.

"Right," she mocks. "That explains your reaction when you arrived yesterday."

"She's not the target!" I know I'm starting to sound defensive, but there's no reasonable justification for my attitude; not without sharing with Sarah more than I care to.

"No," Sarah agrees with me, "but she is a distraction we can't afford. If your eyes are constantly on the sway of her hips then you might miss something important."

"That's not gonna happen, Sarah," I say with determination, turning around and looking her straight in the eye.

"I think you believe that, Cosima, I really do, but you can't possibly know that for sure," she nods, getting closer and pouring herself a cup of coffee, staring at me for a while. "I just want to remind you what's at stake here."

"I know what's at stake", I say annoyed and she begins to scowl. "For instance, this morning I became very interested in the construction of that garage," I ignore her look and aim in the general direction of the new building.

I see curiosity form in her gaze. "Why is that?"

"Did you take a good look around it?"

Sarah shakes her head. "The perimeter is closed," she answers. "Only construction workers are allowed in there."

"And don't you think that's suspicions?" I confront her. "I mean, we're the security team... you're supposed to be the coordinator and make sure everything runs smoothly. Yet, you're not allowed access to the most vulnerable area of the Estate. Who knows what's really going on there?"

"I do think it's weird and I've voiced my concerns to Alfred, but he said that was Daniel's instructions. He's the one overseeing the construction." Sarah tells me.

"If you're so worried, why don't you talk to him about it?" Felix enters the kitchen, still in his pajamas and immediately contributes in an irritated tone. "Since you're so friendly with each other that you don't even mind sharing a woman."

"We're not sharing anything," I turn to him and spit out aggressively. "And we are definitely not friends."

"You certainly seem to be spending a lot of time with him," he continues in the same tone. "He even wants you to be best buddies with his future wife. What do you think he'd say if he knew you want to fuck his oh-so-innocent fiancé?"

In a split second I'm in his face, standing on the tips of my toes to make up for my lack of height. "Why don't you tell him?" I challenge. "Lets see what good that does for our mission.

"You wouldn't know, would you? Since you have no fucking idea what the fuck you're doing," I press on when he says nothing, clearly being caught by surprise by the belligerence in my words. "No wonder S has never sent you alone on a mission. You're a little shit that cracks under the pressure and runs around, chasing his tail when things get just a bit too serious."

"I'm not the one who's losing my mind over a nice piece of ass!" He's reckless enough to push me.

I would launch at him if Sarah hadn't put herself between us, her hands on each of our chests, keeping us apart.

"No one's gonna say anything to anyone!" She's says firmly and looks at Felix. "You're gonna stop teasing Cosima about Delphine," she continues in a voice that sounds final before she turns to me "and you're gonna stay away from her!"

Both Felix and I start to protest, but Sarah will have none of that. "End of discussion!"

"Fine!" I step back. "Just try to get your hands on the blueprints for the garage," I say from the door, "they're building a room underground and I think it would be helpful to know what's that about." I give a murderous glare to Felix. "See... this is what being on a mission means: we gather information and use it to our advantage."

"I see..." In his face a mocking glare. "That's why you're trying to shag the future daughter-in-law, right… for information…"

I leave without a response, marching to the office where I have logs waiting for me. I do, however still hear Sarah snapping at him and I know that, at least for now, I still have an ally.


	19. Sucker Punch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow... two stories in two days... I might be spoiling you :D

The tension between the three of us is palpable, a new resident in our small cottage, adding strain to our conversations. It doesn't improve when Sarah returns from her meeting with Ms. S and doesn't disclose what they discussed; the only thing she shares is that Felix should meet with her the next day he is free, which will be in two days time.

I try to fly under the radar, limiting my interactions with them to the strictly necessary, sequestering myself in the small office, and coming out only when I know I won't run into them. It's not like I'm a stranger to the loneliness, spending day after day inside my own head, but it annoys me that this is happening at a time when we're supposed to be supporting each other. I feel isolated, a small island in the middle of nowhere, not really wanting to end my seclusion, but knowing that I must. If we're going to be successful, we all need to be headed in the same direction.

With that in mind, I followed Sarah's advice and avoided the main building in fear of crossing paths with Delphine again. The truth is though, even if my colleague hadn't said something, I'd probably have steered clear of Delphine anyway. Nothing good could come from getting reacquainted with a ghost from the past.

My desire to keep my distance is aided by the fact that my presence hasn't been requested in these past few days. The few infractions that were caught when I first started have learned their lesson and persuaded others to stay honest.

This lasts until the day Felix is set to meet with Ms. S, when I'm also summoned, with no apparent reason, to meet Daniel. As I head there I feel slightly uneasy, but I don't let it consume me too much. If the purpose of the meeting was to discuss my midnight stroll it would've come days ago. I'm more curious than nervous when I knock on the library's door and enter after hearing Daniel's voice in response.

Daniel is sitting rigidly behind the desk, his suit jacket neatly hung over the back, his loosened tie contrasting with the stiffness of his posture. Wordlessly, he motions me to take a seat, his eyes only briefly leaving whatever document he's reading. I wait patiently, my gaze roaming the bookcase to my left to avoid staring at him too long. I only look back in his direction when I hear the scratching of the pen as he signs the document, then closes the folder.

"How are you doing?" He asks with, what looks like, a genuine interest, interlocking his fingers on top of the table and looking at me.

"I… I'm fine," I choke, caught off guard by the question.

"Good… good," he offers a smile and nods, appearing pleased. "I want my collaborators to feel comfortable working for me," Daniel says, reclining in the chair. "Anything you need? Now that you've settled in I imagine you had time to notice if something's amiss."

I shake my head. "No, no… Everything is perfect."

"Okay, then," he relaxes some more, crossing his legs and gazing steadily at me.

"I was pleased to hear that Delphine had a good time the other day. Perhaps it's not a bad idea to do it again soon."

If I was surprised before, now I'm completely dumbfounded. "Yes, it was good," I manage to respond. "Maybe some time…" I say vaguely.

I definitely don't want to go through that again; too much time alone with Delphine spells trouble. But it's not like I can flat out refuse it without creating suspicions, especially after Delphine's generous account of the afternoon. Regardless, my ambiguous answer seems enough to Daniel and he nods with a small smile.

"There are several reasons I called you in here, Cosima," he begins, his tone becomes more solemn. "Firstly, I want to thank you for doing such a great work with the company's logs. I know it's a rather boring task, but you've shown the uttermost dedication," he pauses to chuckle. "Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would find someone who could organize all that so quickly."

"I'm just doing what you're paying me to do, Mr. Webster," I answer, loosening up a little against the back of the chair.

"Call me Daniel," he encourages with a smile. "And I know it's your job, but I like to praise my employees when they're doing a good work the same way I like to bring to their attention when that's not the case."

Daniel stops again, acknowledging my reaction, which is to nod slowly and force a smile to my lips, not really sure about what I should be feeling for being nominated employee of the month.

"I believe you've been made aware of the engagement party next Wednesday," Daniel states casually. Fortunately, his eyes have already dropped in search of the golden pen that he rolls between his fingers and misses my surprised expression. "And while your roommates will be on the security detail that night, I think it would be nice if you could attend as a guest."

"A guest…" I stutter, struggling to recover from the shock when he looks back at me.

"Well, of course," he raises his hands in a gesture that's meant to show how obvious it is. "Not just because I like you, but for Delphine as well. Considering you know each other… you even helped her pick up the dress she'll be wearing, it's fitting that you come." Daniel chuckles again, this time more lively.

I swallow thickly and if the man notices how forced my smile is, he gives no indication. He only stares at me, waiting for my answer.

"I… I really don't know, Mr. Webs… Daniel," I say, wracking my brain for a way out. "Perhaps that's not a great idea… I mean… my partners would be there working while I'm partying," I shake my head, if he knew me at all, he'd realize how uncomfortable I'm feeling. "It wouldn't be fair."

"If you say so…" he says thoughtfully. "I understand your reservation and admire your loyalty, but if you change your mind, come. You can just show up for a while, you know where we'll be."

I breathe out, relieved that I seemed to have escaped. "I'll think about it."

I won't! There's nothing to think about. I wouldn't be caught dead at Delphine's engagement party.

I'm eager to leave this meeting. An odd anger is brewing, and I'm not sure with whom I should be more upset. On one hand there's Delphine, who refused to tell me what she dragged me to shop for, even though she had ample opportunity to do so. She most likely kept it from me knowing that I wouldn't appreciate the news. On the other hand, there's Sarah and Felix, who clearly have known this for a while and kept it from me, deliberately withholding information that I really should get from them and not be blindsided like this. Even Daniel assumed I knew already.

Unaware of what's going on inside my head, Daniel pushes his chair back, and reaches in a desk drawer, pulling out a green folder and places it in front of me. "This is another thing I wanted to talk with you about," he changes subject and his expression becomes serious as he nods his head in the direction of the binder, encouraging me to pick it up.

I open it and see several newspaper clippings show the same man, well into his sixties, but I have no idea what it says since it's written in a language that looks slavic.

"His name is Mariusz Baczkowski," Daniel explains as I casually flip through the papers. "He's a Polish investor who has approached us to do business with him."

I conceal my astonishment at hearing the man's nationality, but my brain is quickly starting to make connections, remembering Sarah's failed mission two months ago. It might mean nothing, might not be connected in the least, but I can't help the leaps my mind is taking.

"In our first meeting you've demonstrated a... propensity for background checks. You certainly did a good job researching my father's past," he adds with a small chuckle, assuring me that he's comfortable enough to speak freely to me. "I want you to do the same with Mr. Baczkowski."

I cock my brow and tilt my head. "What do you want to know about him?"

"Anything... Everything..." He opens his arms, resting his back on the chair again. "Mr. Baczkowski doesn't have the best reputation. We can't afford to bring too much attention to our company and I want to know how much of it is rumor and how much of it it's true."

"What sort of rumors?" I ask, closing the folder and placing it back on the desk.

He smiles. "Now... I wouldn't want to influence your research. Whatever you find out, tell me," he says, reaching once more for the pen. "As long as you find significant evidence to the claims, I'm interested and want to know.

"You'll have every company resource at your disposal for your investigation, of course," he goes on. "If you think it's necessary to travel to Europe to find out more, you'll be free to do so. All expenses will be covered and, obviously, you'll be compensated accordingly."

"When do you want this done?" I lean back on the chair, crossing my legs.

"As soon as possible," Daniel's answer is exactly what I predicted. "This is your number one priority from now on. If possible, you should continue to work on the logs, but those seem controlled for now. If you need to travel, like I'm convinced you'll have to, take the work computer with you and do it when you have free time, but this," he moves forward to tap his hand lightly on the folder, "this is more important than any logs."

He looks at me intently, waiting for the sign that assures him that I understand. I take the folder in my hands and nod firmly, he responds by leaning back on his big, leather chair, with a satisfied smile.

"Splendid!" He says, arms opening in a grand gesture. "Just one more thing before you go..."

I stop my movements as I was already getting up. "Yes?"

"This doesn't leave this room," Daniel says with his gaze penetrating mine, as if carefully analyzing my reaction. "You won't discuss this with my father or anyone else for that matter, and this includes your companions, of course."

"Of course," I echo and nod again, opening a smirk. "I hope you won't think me pretentious, but I'd assumed that already."

"Perfect," he says loud again. "I'm glad that we understand each other."

I grace him with a large smile, hiding my growing distrust for the man, which takes the form of a scold only as I turn to leave.

"Don't forget the engagement party," he throws out, just as I reach the door and look over my shoulder. "I'm sure it would mean a lot to Delphine if you could attend."

This time I don't have the strength to smile, but give him another "I'll think about it", before I leave.

It's a good thing that no one's home when I get there - Sarah's still at work and Felix is out on the town, presumably to meet Ms. S - otherwise I'd likely allow all the frustration I feel to spill out and rage against them. So, instead I draw myself a nice, warm bath in hopes that it'll help with the tension that has stiffened my muscles during my conversation with Daniel.

After a while I hear the front door open and close, but refuse to get out of the steam filled bathroom, resting the back of my head on the tilt of the tub and take deep, calming breaths. I consider whether or not I should tell Sarah and Felix about my new assignment. Not because Daniel has asked me not to, but rather because I'd like to discuss it with Ms. S first. I want her to know firsthand and see what she thinks it's the best action to take. Besides, knowing her the way I do, she's very likely to have some information about this Mariusz Baczkowski. And perhaps it's not only that that weighs my decision; the sting of their betrayal is still fresh. Sarah and Felix must have known about the damn party for a while and took upon themselves not to tell me.

I eventually leave the bathroom and go directly to my room, taking my time. As far as I can tell, Felix has yet to return, and Sarah seems to be in the living room, the TV on. However, when I approach her, the warm bath seems to have worked its magic and I feel significantly more relaxed than when I got back to the cottage almost an hour ago.

I take the comfortable recliner, while she eyes me suspiciously from the big couch she's stretched on.

"I would've like to have known beforehand," I comment keeping my voice leveled. We definitely don't need more drama.

"What are you talking about?" Sarah's head turns and she looks directly at me.

"About the engagement party," I clarify, trying to maintain my civility. "I would rather learn it from you than Daniel."

Sarah looks at me positively stunned, the confusion in her expression appears to be genuine. "I thought you already knew," she explains. "Didn't she tell you? I thought that was why you arrived so upset the other day."

I sigh heavily, shaking my head. "No, she did not."

The suspicious look returns to her face. "Then... why have you been so pissed these last couple of days?"

I press my lips together, biting the inside of my cheek and look away from her. Sarah waits, her staring at me, and I know that she's going over several scenarios in her head. She's programmed that way - we both are. We're trained to think about every possible outcome, considering all the information we've got. It just so happens that, at this point, she doesn't have enough knowledge to accurately judge where I am now and I'm not inclined to change that.

"Are you two fucking?" She asks bluntly.

"Jesus, Sarah!" My eyes go immediately to her.

"Sorry, sorry..." She waves her hands lazily in front of her. "Are you two _making love_?"

I twist my lips and roll my eyes. "No, we're not."

"Which one?"

"Both… Neither..." I get up and can't believe Sarah's finding this amusing. "What the fuck, Sarah!"

She scoffs, but regains some seriousness. "I'm just saying... if something like that is going on, you need to tell me," she sits a bit straighter on the couch. "Felix doesn't need to know, but I..."

"No, okay?" I cut her off. "We're not fucking, we're not making love, we're not having sex!"

"Bumping uglies?" Sarah suggests and by now I know she's trusting my word.

"Not even that," I respond, a smile finally stretching my lips. "You know she took me to shop for the dress she'll be wearing in the stupid party without me knowing..."

"Oi, that's gotta hurt," she says sympathetically.

"No shit!" I throw over my shoulder on my way to the kitchen, getting a beer to each of us.

"Was she such a bitch back in the day?" Sarah asks when I hand her the bottle.

"Some times," I shrug, sitting back down and placing my feet on the small coffee table in front of me. "Truth is, I never really got to know her, never really understood what she's all about," I smirk despite myself. "Which was part of the allure, of course."

"But you dated," Sarah pushes, but without the persistence she has used in the past and I think she knows this is the best way to approach the subject.

"I don't know if you can call it dating, sneaking away for a few kisses and clumsy groping," I offer a little more information, waiting to see how she reacts.

Sarah raises both her eyebrows briefly and smirks. "Straight girls, am I right?"

I laugh. "No kidding."

We settle into a comfortable silence for a while, sipping our beers and stealing a few glances at the TV. This I can do, easy, effortlessly, without the tension a serious discussion entails. Maybe it's because Felix is out. Without his insecurities constantly creating drama, we can talk about this a bit more lightly. Or maybe it's because Sarah always understood me better. Despite her rugged exterior, I know she's the most sensitive of the two; she knows that a lighter tone must be taken in order to obtain certain information. What I revealed to her, I did it voluntarily, because I chose to, but I know that if she had tried to get this out of me with a more severe approach, I wouldn't do it. This is what Felix still lacks: the ability to take a step back and assess the situation with his head and act accordingly.

"What did Daniel want?" Sarah asks after a while, her hand extended with an empty bottle, signaling that I should get another. "Is he suspicious about the two of you? Does he know you've got the hots for his fiancée?"

"No, not even close," I take the jab lightly, getting up to replace the bottle in her hand. "He wanted to give me a pat on the back for my good work," I say from the kitchen.

"Really?" I hear the smile on her words.

"Yep!" I sit back down after giving her another beer. "He also hinted that Delphine and I should continue to improve our friendship by going out again." My friend snorts hearing this and I continue. "Apparently Delphine told him she had a great time."

"Did you?" Sarah's expression remains amused.

I pause to think for an instant. "I mean... it wasn't bad," I tell her. "We _did_ have a good time, but there was this big elephant in the room that we were constantly maneuvering around."

"The elephant being your past?" She asks, a hand swinging in my direction.

I nod. "Anyway... I think it's better if we don't do it again," I say. "You were right when you said that I need to stay away from her."

"When will you learn that I'm always right, Cosima?" Sarah jokes, shaking her head in a mocking disapprovingly way.

"I'll admit you were right _that once_ ," I concede, laughing. "He also invited me to the party as a _guest_ ," I air quote the last word. "Said it would mean a lot to Delphine if I went."

"Dude's completely blind," Sarah chuckles. "Are you?"

"Going? Fuck no!" I answer quickly.

Sarah laughs at how fast I answer, but leaves it at that.

We order pizza, having the man on gate duty deliver it to our door because we can and because both of us are feeling pretty lazy. With it we have another beer or two and by the time Felix finally arrives, Sarah and I are buzzed enough for him to see it through our dopy smiles.

"Seems like someone has been having fun without me," he comments, shedding his coat.

"How did it go with Ms. S?" Sarah asks him with mild curiosity.

"Fine," he replies curtly.

I snort, knowing by his reaction that the meeting was not exactly pleasant to him.

He glares at me. "Laugh now," Felix says annoyed. "She wants to see you this Saturday."

He thinks that this little piece of information would upset me, but he missed wide.

I grin, getting up from the chair and stretching my back. "Great!" I say after a pleasant groan when I hear my spine pop. "Can't wait!"


	20. It's a Trust Issue

The next day, I wake up feeling invigorated. My talk with Sarah the previous day felt like a balm, a normal conversation without the drama that usually ensues when Felix was around was refreshing and gave me renewed enthusiasm for the mission. Even if Felix remains stubbornly bitter to the point of glaring at me when we cross paths in the morning, I don't let it kill my good mood. He'll come around eventually. If not for me, then for Sarah; she knows how to take care of him when he's like this, while I've never had much patience for his mood swings.

I make quick work of the logs and use the time until lunch to do some research on Mr. Mariusz Baczkowski. Unsurprisingly, there's not much about him available online, otherwise Daniel wouldn't have requested such a task from me. A few of his businesses have made news in economic circles in the US and Europe. I manage to read some, written in English and German, but the bulk of the news is eastern Europe. Still, with the little information I've gathered, I can see the pattern that made Daniel so nervous about doing business with the Polish man. There's nothing concrete and most of it is pure speculation, but the man has a reputation for being vicious when conducting his business, several articles mentioning a possible connection with the Russian mafia, and again my brain makes links with what has happened in Warsaw. But, like the journalists who've written about him, all I have is a vague connection shaped by my own personal experience, circumstantial at best. I won't know anything for certain until I'm able to dig deeper and, as Webster suggested, a trip to Poland seems inevitable in order to have a more proactive approach to the problem. I need to start somewhere and going directly to the source might be the best bet.

First, I need to speak with Ms. S. I suspect she knows something about this and, fortunately, our meeting is not that far away.

A knock on the door interrupts my thoughts and the task of cleaning the lunch dishes. I sling the towel over my shoulder and head to the door, thinking one of my partners had forgotten something and is too lazy to use the keys, knowing I'm home.

I swing the door open and scowl immediately. "What do you want?" I ask abruptly.

Delphine narrows her eyes slightly at my unfriendly greeting but doesn't backtrack. "Are you free?" She asks flatly, almost with the same animosity.

"Don't tell me you want to go on another date?" I snicker bitterly.

She shakes her head once. "I don't want to," Delphine answers in the same tone, "but we're going nonetheless."

"Are we?" I cock my brow and tilt my head in utter disbelief.

"We are!" She gives a firm nod. "I'll wait for you by the car. Don't take too long!"

And with that she leaves, tucking her hands in the pockets of her long, white coat, striding in the direction of the parking area. Stunned, I remain by the open door, watching her go with mouth agape, my hand raised in a gesture of confusion that wasn't completely due to the abruptness of it all.

"Un-fucking-believable..." I mumble to myself, moving inside and shaking my head annoyed.

All the same, I put on my boots and reach for my coat, debating whether I should leave a note warning my roommates of my absence should they return before I do, but ultimately decide against it. I lock the door, pocket the keys, and grab my phone.

Delphine is waiting for me, already behind the wheel, and starts the car when she sees me, seemingly in a hurry.

"What happened? Forgot to buy shoes for your fancy party?" I say the moment I sit, not bothering to hide my contempt.

Delphine throws an ugly look my way but doesn't respond to my childish provocation. She simply drives off the property, steps on the gas, and sends the old SUV roaring down the road, leaving the estate growing smaller in the rearview mirror.

She has a closed expression, thoughtful and determined and, if I recall, that's never a good sign.

"Delphine..." I say in a quiet voice, uneasiness creep into my bones, but she doesn't make a move. "Is everything okay?" I try again.

She looks at me and her countenance softens, doubt passing across her face, but it's fleeting and she focuses her attention back on the road. "Yes," she replies shortly.

"Okay..." I twist my lips and decide to just see where this goes.

A heavy silence fills the vehicle, the only sound being the complaint of the motor every time Delphine decides to push it. She drives us to the same parking lot and we step onto the street.

"This is the weirdest kidnap ever," I comment under my breath walking beside her.

She chuckles and look at me with a surprising glee in her bright eyes. "That makes you the most cooperative victim ever." Delphine's voice is lighter now, her shoulders relaxing a little as she takes a deep breath.

"What is this all about? Really..." I ask.

"I needed to get out." She shrugs.

"So... I'm your excuse," I say, still feeling confused.

"You could say that." She doesn't stop until we are at the same bakery and opens the door for me to enter.

We sit at the same table, but this time she's faster than me and takes the seat facing the door.

"Can't you simply leave whenever you want?" I ask, starting to get seriously concerned about her situation.

But Delphine smiles and shakes her head. "Of course I can," she says.

I squint and my brain starts to connect the dots. "But this way he won't ask many questions," I offer and she doesn't react. "That's why you said we had a good time the other day."

This time she frowns. "I thought we did."

We're interrupted by the same woman who's efficient in taking Delphine's order after a few pleasant words are exchanged.

"Are you gonna move in there?" I inquire bluntly as soon as we're alone again and it's ridiculous; I know the answer.

Her bright hazel eyes go wide, stunned by my question or maybe just the way I asked. "After the wedding," she answers after the few seconds it takes her to recover.

"But not yet?" I push, unable to keep my voice completely level. She shakes her head, a hint of irritation in her gaze. "I'm just asking because you seem to spend a lot of time there and you need excuses to get out."

"I don't need excuses!" She cuts me off with a firm voice, annoyed by my assumption. "I can leave whenever I please, for whatever reason. I didn't have to bring you with me and you certainly didn't have to come. I figured you'd be bored and thought it was a nice gesture, but obviously you don't feel that way!" Delphine's words come out in a rush. "We can leave right now if that's what you want."

I remain silent as she speaks, my expression unchanged - an unimpressed mask that I've perfected through the years. Only when she stops and looks at me, awaiting my response do my eyebrows arches, but I say nothing, letting it simmer for a moment.

"You wanna know what I think?" I offer when I had my fill. "I think you feel guilty about how things went last time and you're doing this to make yourself feel better."

Her lips form a straight line, the plump flesh of her lower lip briefly nibbled by nervous white teeth. There's doubt in her eyes as she pins me with an intense gaze, her fingers weaving through golden tendrils. Only when the waitress arrives to serve us do her eyes drift, her expression changing to give a weak smile to the older woman as she waits for her to leave.

"I know I should've told you that was the purpose of the shopping," she says in a much softer voice, reaching for the delicate porcelain teapot and filling both cups, the tips of her fingers sliding one in my direction. "But I didn't want to..." Delphine pauses, considering her next words. "That's it! I didn't want to," she decides, setting the pot down on the table. "I knew it would create an awkward situation and I didn't want that."

She's honest at least; I give her that. I observe as she reaches for the cup in front of her, blowing gently before bringing it to her lips for a small sip. Her eyes find mine for a brief second, a small, mysterious glint in them that I can't quite place. We are silent for a while; eating flakey pastries and drinking strong tea, and despite being constantly at odds, it doesn't feel uncomfortable. I don't feel the need to break the silence with shallow conversation.

"Daniel told me he invited you to the engagement party," she prompts casually between bites of the buttery croissant.

I smirk and snort lightly. "If you're worried about that, don't be," I say with a shrug. "I have no intention of attending."

She nods a few times and hums. "Didn't think you would," Delphine comments in the same soft tone. "He's growing to like you a lot."

"Don't tell me you're jealous," I joke halfheartedly .

"It was just an observation." She chuckles. "He's very impressed with your work."

I shrug again, unsure where she's going with this, remembering her words of caution the last time we were here. "And that's not necessarily a good thing, since they're not nice people." She frowns but says nothing. "If he's such a bad guy, then why would you want to marry him? Don't tell me you have a thing for bad boys," I press with irony. "Aren't you too old for that kind of rebellion?"

Delphine keeps staring at me with a blank look. "I'm not surprised you didn't take me seriously," she observes, her eyes abandoning me in favor of her cup of tea.

"Why would I, when you refuse to give me legitimate reason?"

A corner of her lip turns upwards in a discontent frown, shaking her head a couple of times. "I find it interesting that you choose not to trust me but have no problems trusting him."

"I never said I trust him," I tell her matter-of-factually. "But I have no motive to trust you more than him."

"Well, Daniel seems to trust you quite a bit," Delphine says, brushing off my jab, unaffected. "It's a very impressive accomplishment, since he has a very suspicious nature."

"I wouldn't know about that," I say dismissively. "I just do my job."

"And what is that, exactly?" Delphine asks, her attention back on the plate, selecting an orange macaron.

"Computer stuff," I answer with another shrug.

She arches a blond brow and rolls her eyes, but doesn't attempt to find out more. "And how long have you been doing _computer stuff_?" Delphine asks instead.

"A few years," I vaguely answer, wanting to end this uncomfortable line of questioning. Delphine is far from thick, and soon she'll see through my evasive responses. "What about you?" I try to put the focus back on her. "Are you gonna look for something around here? Boston has plenty of museums and galleries and stuff, right?"

She shifts slightly in her chair, her back relaxes against the seat. "Yes," she nods. "I've already sent some CV's, waiting to hear back from them."

I give her a little smile. "Good! At least you're not becoming a desperate housewife or something..."

Delphine laughs and her body loosens a little more. "No, I'm not. I would probably go insane."

"Even with me around?" I poke, the lightness of the conversation steering me into a more careless mood.

"Especially with you around," Delphine corrects me thoughtlessly, before her expression suddenly becomes hard.

The silence that follows is an uncomfortable one. We steal glances at each other but neither of us seems to be able to find the right words to fill the awkwardness. I inhale deeply, my heart feels unbearably heavy and it takes more than it should, considering all that's behind us and the many years apart, to keep from reaching out to her. Delphine looks out the window, contemplative, nibbling her lower lip until she shakes her head slowly a few times and, wordlessly, gets up and walks in the counter's direction. I get up as well and go outside, welcoming the frigid air against my skin.

I jump slightly feeling her hand tap my shoulder.

"Let's go?" Delphine's voice is incredibly soft, and even her gaze is as gentle as I remember from our more pleasant days.

I swallow the nervousness building in my chest. "What now?" I croak. "Back to the dungeon?"

She snorts and shakes her head. "A quick stop first," she tells me in the same gentle tone and starts to walk.

I follow her with my eyes at first, before I catch myself, shaking my head as if that's enough to will dangerous thoughts away, and quicken my steps to catch up to her. Finally, when next to Delphine, she looks down at me, a ridiculous, knowing smile on her lips and I have to clench my fists at my side just to keep a semblance of control. Were I not so focused on keeping myself together, I would've analyzed the smallest detail in her actions, her reactions, Delphine's constant swings in behavior. I know that nothing about this is normal, but it feels so natural, effortless and I'm grasping for reason, finding it increasingly difficult to brush off Delphine's magnetic appeal.

I'm barely paying attention to where she's leading me and the path only comes back into focus when we stop at an old brick building and she's fishing for keys in her purse.

"Your house," I deduce as she holds the door for me.

She nods. "I need to get something."

"I'll wait," I say, refusing to cross the door.

Delphine frowns. "Don't be ridiculous," she scolds and pulls me by the elbow. "It shouldn't take long."

I groan but let her guide me up the stairs. "I think this is a very bad idea, Delphine," I puff out, climbing the second flight of stairs.

On the third floor, she stops in front of one of the doors and turns around. "Do you think you're that irresistible?" Delphine raises a playful eyebrow, a smirk tugs at the corner of her lips.

_No, but you are_ , I hear my mind scream, but am wise enough not to say it aloud, censuring myself for even thinking it. Although the awkward chuckle I release is not much better and when she turns to open the door I bury my face in my palm, urging my mind to stop traveling dangerous paths.

I've regain some of my blasé façade when Delphine, having opened the door and stepped inside, looks back at me. I stand at the threshold, my feet rooted.

"Well?" She says expectantly and when I remain unmoving, she rolls her eyes. "Cosima, get inside and close the door," she says in an exasperated tone. "I promise I won't bite."

I sigh heavily and do what she asks, but don't walk any further inside the place.

It's a small space, clearly not meant to be used as a permanent residence for long. A niche of an apartment, the front door opens directly into a small area which serves as living room, bedroom and kitchen. The painted white iron bed is small and neatly pushed against a corner with a window over it. There's no closet, and the clothes are carefully hung on a stand against another wall with a few shoes perfectly lined up underneath it. A couch separates both areas, and the TV is mounted on the wall so it can be visible from everywhere. The furniture, while it looks brand new, doesn't seem like it would last long. Hardly decorated, the house looks convenient but is stark and lacks personality. The eggshell white walls are barren, save for a few cheap knockoffs of famous oil paintings. The kitchen - if you can call it that - is a small counter on the opposite end of the bed, with two burners, a microwave and a sink occupying most of it, the oven under the cupboard and a fridge not much bigger than a minibar complete the area that doesn't seem to be used much.

Everything feels mildly impersonal. Delphine has clearly chosen not to waste any time in trying to make this her home, as evidenced by a few unopened boxes sitting forlornly in a corner.

"You don't entertain much, do you?" I ask before I think it through.

"No, I don't," Delphine replies shortly, shaking her head and if my words bother her, she shows no sign of it.

She goes to the dresser, a duffel bag in hand where she meticulously places a couple of warm shirts. Involuntarily I bite my lower lip and look away, fighting against the churning in my stomach.

"Mind if I use the bathroom?" I then ask, taking a few more steps inside and heading towards the only door in the apartment.

"Go ahead," she looks at me and nods when she sees me approaching what can only be the bathroom.

I flip on the light and enter the small room, closing the door behind me. Inside I splash cold water on my face, the mirror having no reservation about revealing my uneasy state of mind. I take the time to inspect what's out in the open: toothbrush and toothpaste in a plastic cup, a bar of nice soap on the sink, the shower small with a plastic curtain pushed back, body wash, shampoo and a few hair products in a metallic basket inside the shower. I refrain from opening the medicine cabinet and check inside; an habit gained with my usual line of work.

Delphine's smoking at the window near the kitchen counter when I step out, a distant look on her face as she exhales a steady tendril of smoke. I clear my throat, making my presence known, and she looks back at me, a hint of a smile on her lips as she crushes the cigarette on the ashtray on the windowsill.

"Hard habit to kick," she comments quietly, closing the window.

"I imagine so," I agree. "But you know me, I go only for the natural stuff."

Delphine laughs softly and picks up the bag from the couch, getting her keys from the small table on the way to the door. "If you want, I can talk with Will," she offers as we make our way down the stairs. "I'm sure he can get you some of the _natural stuff_ ," she air quotes before opening the building's door.

"Can't believe you're offering to be my dealer," I joke, following her easy pace down the street. "Very enabling of you."

"I don't judge." She shrugs. "There's a lot of things worse out there than smoking pot and I know it has many benefits. Besides, you don't strike me as the kind of person who'd abuse it."

"Have you..?" I bring my thumb and forefinger to my lips, tilting my head up to meet her eyes.

She smirks. "There are very few things I haven't tried, Cosima," Delphine says in a low, conspiratorial voice.

I open my mouth a couple of times to come up with an answer and the only thing I can come up with is a mumble. "Well, that's... that's really progressive of you."

She laughs full-heartedly and shakes her head. Delphine continues to chuckle lightly as we approach the parking lot where she left the car, down the block from her building. Music accompanies us on the drive back. I don't know if it's to avoid the awkwardness of last time, or if it's because she's indeed in a hurry, Delphine doesn't linger and as soon as we park, she leaves the car.

"If I was to get you for another tea would that be alright or would you still feel like I'm kidnapping you?" She asks casually, although her eyes refuse to meet mine.

I stop, surprised by her question, taking some time to think about it. I know it's not the brightest idea, but on the other hand, perhaps it's a good way to get on Daniel's good side. After all, he wants us to be friends. If Delphine and I can maintain a cordial relationship would that be so bad?

"As long as it comes with a side of croissants, I'm sure we can manage," I answer with a short nod of my head, and as I say the words I can taste the phony easiness on my tongue .

She smiles and nods herself and I stand there, watching her walk towards the main building, looking over her shoulder once to find my gaze pinned on her and the smile she shows melts me inside.

I pull my coat tightly closed, and turn to head for our cottage, too distracted to pay attention to my surroundings.

"Better get smarter, Cosima," Sarah mutters, as she suddenly appears alongside me.

"We're just having tea," I answer, not even bothering to look at her, knowing I most likely won't like what I see, and continue to walk.

I hear her snort. "Since when do you drink tea?"

I say nothing, sliding the keys into the lock and opening the door.

"What do you think is gonna happen, huh?" Sarah insists and I can't really refute her thinking, so I remain silent. "How do you think this is going to end? She'll dump the rich dolt and you're gonna live happy ever after..."

"I know that, okay!" I say aloud, turning to face her with an unhappy expression.

"Good!" She replies equally loud and fortunately leaves it at that, entering to the bathroom.

I sit heavily on the couch, sighing deeply and let my head fall back, both my hands covering my face. She's right, I know it and I wish I could act accordingly. However, I can't seem to find the ability to say no to Delphine. That remains the same. No matter how many years have passed, or how much I've changed, nor how aware I am that Delphine is clearly not the same person I once knew. Despite the fact that some of her old personality traits still cling to her, she's not the same. Even if she was, what difference would that make? The appeal is still there, gnawing at my entrails, twisting them until I can't seem to focus on anything else.

It's not a pleasant feeling, thinking I have little or no control when Delphine is in the mix. Only now can I admit that I've severely downplayed the influence she has on me, not that I could've predicted it when Ms. S recruited me for this mission, but I did see it before now. Furthermore, this can and will become a problem if I don't find a way to deal with it, thus proving Sarah right once again. Unfortunately, Delphine, unaware of the predicament she's putting me in, or at least, not aware of the full fuck-up potential, appears to be on a mission of her own, determined to see me wrapped around her fingers, like everyone else around her. Too bad I can't be sure of her intentions. _Perhaps she's just bored_ , I chuckle to myself when I think it.

Sarah refrains from mentioning what she witnessed to Felix when he returns, but the looks she gives me throughout the night tell me that she won't keep it to herself much longer. In her eyes I'm running out of opportunities to make this right and clean up my act. Or perhaps she's just waiting for my meeting with Ms. S, especially if Sarah had said something about this to our leader, like I suspect. Maybe even Felix had the balls to say something. In fact, now that I think about it, and taking in consideration his peacock attitude when he got back from his own meeting, I'm sure he did.

I'm expecting Delphine to be the main topic of discussion when I, after leaving the car provided by the Websters and taking a cab to our safe house, knock on the door four times.

Ms. S opens the door, a serious look on her face when she steps aside to let me in.

"We have a serious problem regarding Ms. Cormier."

Her voice is stern and she doesn't disappoint right off the bat.

Since the beginning I've learned that we should fear her rage. Siobhan Sadler doesn't like to be taken for a fool and she goes to great lengths to let us know that, which is why I have no intentions to lie to her. I swallow thickly feeling her glare on me.


	21. Double Blind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little shorter than usual but it's heavy with plot so there's that...  
> As always, thanks to cophine.

"It's not as bad as it sounds, I promise!" I defend myself even before the accusation comes.

"Sit down!" Siobhan's voice is firm and her eyes are piercing as I follow her command and sit on the worn, ugly, brown couch that her finger is pointing at.

My body is rigid, the broken springs of the uncomfortable seat push against my back as I recline. She towers over me for a second, but moves away, shaking her head in disappointment and I feel the sting of guilt.

"I don't know what they've told you," I restart, willing my voice not to tremble and reveal my nervousness, "but I've got this under control."

I hear a chair being dragged, scraping the old wooden floor, but don't look back. Siobhan remains silent as she carries the chair in one hand until she stops in front of me. She sits, crossing her legs, a mug of tea resting on her thigh between her hands.

"No, it's not a bad as it looks," she says, "it's worse."

I swallow my anxiety and shake my head. "Oh c'mon… how bad can it be?" I try to sound nonchalant. "Her fiancé encouraged us to be friends. We're just... we just go out and talk."

She narrows her eyes in my direction, but other than that her expression reveals nothing. "What have you been talking about?"

"You know… stuff." I shrug and raise my brows, knowing they she's expecting a better answer. "Honestly, Delphine has been helping me understand the Webster family a little better…"

"How so?" She looks surprised.

"Well... for one, I don't think she trusts them much," I say after taking a moment to gather my thoughts. "She has warned me about them."

"Warned you?" Mrs. S sounds in complete disbelief.

I snort, somehow finding a hint of humor in all this. "Yeah, she said they're not good people, which like… totally incredible, since she's about to marry one of them."

"What do you think she meant by that?"

"I really don't know yet." I shake my head. "But see..? This is what I mean. This can be useful, I can get useful information from her."

"And what have _you_ told _her_?" She asks, leaning forward, staring at me intensely.

"Me?! Nothing!" I raise my voice, not liking the implication of her words. "I've told her nothing! Every time she asked me something about work I've stayed with my cover. I'm not an idiot!"

"But she has asked you about your work?" She presses on.

"Well… yeah, but not like…" I pause to mull it over. "I think it's normal that she would ask after not seeing me for so long," I reason. "Look, at worst, she's a gold-digger trying to get settled with a rich fuck. She's harmless."

Siobhan shakes her head again, slightly incredulous by my assessment. "What do you know about her, Cosima? Really? What do you know about her life for the last ten years? Has she told you what she did before meeting the Websters? Or how she met them?"

"We haven't covered that yet, but I can find out," I reply fast. "I know she studied art…" I stop when I notice that S continues to shake he head.

"She _did_ study art conservation and restoration…" She informs me, getting up from the chair. "For one semester."

She gets a folder that was sitting on the table and places it in my hands. "When we began our mission there was a sense of urgency and we had to prioritize what information we dug out first. Mrs. Cormier was _not_ a priority, but maybe she should've been.

"As it turns out, your high school sweetheart's stepfather used to do business with Henry Webster. Nothing too big, as far as we were able to gather. Patrick Collins, who married Sophie Beraud, Delphine's mother, had various businesses in New York and hired Webster's firm to handle the finances."

"Well, that explains how she knows them," I mumble, opening the folder and being surprised by a photo of a teen Delphine - the one I once knew - on her left was her mother and on the right the man I recognize as her stepfather.

"Yes, it does," Mrs. S agrees with me, but in a tone that tells me that there's more to it. "What it doesn't explain is how come we can't find anything else on her after she dropped out of college."

"What do you mean?" I'm positively confused. "She never graduated?"

"No, she did not," she says with certainty.

"Then, I assume, she never worked in a gallery in New York."

"Or anywhere else." Siobhan shakes her head and sits on the chair again. "Mrs. Cormier has been nowhere, worked nowhere. No driver's license, no social security number, not even listed in travel records. It's like she ceased to exist at nineteen."

"This makes no sense…" I shake my head, going over page after page of database searches that came up with nothing under her name.

"So… I wouldn't exactly call her harmless, would you?"

I look at Mrs. S, blinking several times as if trying to wake up from a dream, not really fully registering what she's saying. "How did this escape the Websters?" Is what I come up with.

"They may have felt no need to investigate since they knew her from back in the day when her stepfather did business with them," Siobhan says, casually sipping her drink. "Picture this: someone from your past, who you had have no reasons to doubt, comes back into your life, tells you a story that is completely feasible about where she's been, what she's been doing and claims to want to get reacquainted and so on and so on… sounds familiar?"

"Vaguely…" I mumble, closing the file on my lap and giving it back to her. "But it's not like she saw me coming. She had to be genuinely caught off guard when I showed up to work at the estate."

"Doesn't matter." Siobhan looks unimpressed. "It worked for Daniel, it would work for you. She only had to stick with the original plan, because you know nothing about her that could really damage her."

"Until now," I think aloud.

"Until now," she repeats with a nod.

"What do you make of this?" I ask, gesturing to the folder, now on Mrs. S' lap.

"I don't know… there are several possibilities." She says thoughtfully. "For instance, if someone did the same search on you before we created some fake backstory to prep for this mission, the results would be the same. After I picked you up, Cosima Niehaus figuratively died. The only information anyone could find is about one of your several aliases, nothing on you."

"She wouldn't have anything to do with us being sent there, would she?" I ask.

"I doubt it," Siobhan says. "If that was the case I would've been warned about her."

"Then?" I raise both my hands along with my voice, feeling mildly exasperated.

"Then… it seems we're not the only ones working the Websters," Mrs. S states firmly. "Someone else has infiltrated them and Delphine's the inside man, so to speak."

"With what purpose?" I ask and she shrugs. "And what about _our_ purpose?"

She gives me an ugly look, trying to discourage me from inquiring further.

"We need to know, Siobhan!" I insist, getting up from my seat, but with no intention of moving away from her "Now more than ever. Especially if there are other players."

She remains quiet, but her gaze wavers briefly.

"Does this have anything to do with Sarah's failed mission in Warsaw?" I ask bluntly and this definitely spikes her interest, so I carry on. "Because Daniel has asked me to look into a Polish investor who's approached him to do business."

"Who?" She asks instantly, getting up as well and dropping Delphine's file back on the table, going to the fridge and getting some ice that she drops in two glasses.

"Can't say the name." I search my back pocket and take out the small piece of paper where I wrote _Mariusz Baczkowski_. "Here."

She finishes generously filling two glasses with her favorite bourbon and takes the paper on one hand, while she brings the glass to her lips.

"And he has approached them?" She asks, setting the glass back down to rip the paper in even smaller pieces and dropping them in the sink, where they go down the drain with the running water.

"That's what he said." I watch her actions with a raised brow. "Do you know him?"

"What does Daniel want you to find out?" She ignores my question.

"Pretty much anything." I answer her either way because I've never seen Siobhan this tense, so I figured it's better not to challenge her at this point. "Apparently that dude's rumored to have ties to the Russian Mafia - as was Sarah's target - and Daniel wants to know how much of it it's true.

"He seems very invested in it, gave me _carte blanche_ to look for information, even if that means going to Poland," I continue. "No expenses spared."

"I don't know if that's a good idea, Cosima," she says in a very low voice.

I watch her closely as she moves slowly to sit back on the couch, her eyes locked on the glass that she spins on her hands, frowning. It's as if all energy has left her all of the sudden.

"This felt wrong from the start," she says thoughtfully. "But we needed to save face after what happened in Warsaw and this is a very important client, I simply couldn't say no."

I take the glass she left on the counter for me and sit next to her. "The same guy ordered the two missions?"

Mrs. S nods. "I never had any reason to doubt his intentions, he's been a client for years."

"Who is he?" I ask and I know that under normal circumstances she wouldn't answer, nor would I even dared to ask, but this feels anything but normal.

"I only know him as Mr. Y - as in the letter, not the word," she adds drolly, looking at me with a sad smile.

"And why would Mr. Y do something like this?" I inquire with a weird brand of humor. "Seems like a bit much just because Sarah's mission was unsuccessful. Besides, and don't tell her I told you this, but it was not even her fault. Someone beat her to it."

"I don't quite know," she admits, her eyes on me, flashing with renewed determination. "But I'm going to find out! We have all these puzzle pieces and none of them fit."

"That's because we're missing key information," I tell her, being influenced by her determination I get up. "And that's why I'm going to Poland!" My feet carry me back and forth on the old wooden floor. "If we're going to find out what this is all about, we need to go back to where it started, that's where we'll find some answers. And if Daniel's paying for it, even better, I get to kill two birds with one stone."

"I still don't think that's a good idea," she counters. "And I really don't want you to go there alone."

"Daniel has clearly stipulated that I'm not to discuss this with anyone, so I can't exactly bring Sarah or Felix." I stop and wave my hands.

"You haven't told them about this?"

"No, I wanted to talk with you first," I say honestly.

"It's probably for the best," she nods. "I would also encourage you not to disclose any of this information to them just yet, not until we get a better footing on what we're dealing with."  
"Yeah… We don't even know what Daniel knows. He may very well be oblivious to all this and they - whoever they are - are just using him and the rest of the family as a front." I agree and add some of my own thoughts. "And where does Delphine fit in all this?" I pause my pacing and look at Siobhan. "How much have you told Sarah and Felix about what you've found out about her?"

"I haven't." She shakes her head. "I thought it would be better to tell you first. And it's not like they need an extra incentive not to trust the woman, especially Felix; he's already very… agitated over your relationship with Delphine."

"You don't say…" I roll my eyes. "He's being a total bitch, thinking that Delphine and I are _shagging_ ," I air quote.

"Maybe is not such a bad idea," Siobhan muses.

"What?!" My heads whips in her direction.

"I don't mean literally," she shrugs, talking casually. "But it might be a good idea to… cultivate some sort of relationship with Delphine. As long as you keep in mind what we've discussed here."

"Yeah… I don't think that's gonna be a problem." The irritated tone in my voice aimed at myself and my blindness and not at the older woman.

Siobhan seems pleased with my reaction. "She doesn't know that you know, we can use that to our advantage."

"You mean, we can use her," I correct her.

"Do you have a problem with that?"

I smirk. "Not even a little bit."


	22. Setting Up The Pieces

Mrs. S and I decide to meet again after I return from Europe, having agreed that it's for the best to take the trip as soon as possible. Meanwhile, and while I'm abroad and not under the Websters' thumb, it will be easier to maintain regular contact, which she insists on, using the same line we keep for emergencies during our regular missions. Normally she would be against it, giving us relative independence, but not this time. I'm going in blind, not knowing what to expect not what I'll find out. I'm supposed to report to her on every development and this way both of us will feel safer.

Our immediate concern lies with Sarah and Felix though. They won't like that I'll be leaving, that's for sure. And they'll like it even less, when they ask me where I'm going and what the objective is, and I provide them with no answers. But it's better this way. If I lie they'll grow suspicious, and won't stop until they get to the bottom of it. So, instead, I'm to refer them to Mrs. S, she'll cover for me and try to keep them in line.

Yes, they're gonna hate it, but they know better than to go against her command. Or so we hope.

It's dusk when I return to the Estate, even if it's barely past five. Delphine's old SUV is absent and the cottage is empty. Both my partners are still working and I take these last moments of quiet to relax, knowing that once they return I'll be bombarded with questions that I cannot answer.

As a preventative measure, predicting Sarah and Felix's rage and trying to appease them by anticipation, I start on dinner. While I rarely use this ability, and not to sound too pretentious, my cooking is fucking divine. I pull all tricks out of my hat; they'll be treated with an elaborate meal. Hopefully they'll eat so much that, by the end of the dinner, they'll be too lazy to get into an argument.

Meanwhile, my brain works as quickly as my hands chopping onions, as I try to make sense of the new information I have on Delphine. From the beginning, it rubbed me the wrong way, this new version of her. She wouldn't turn into someone like her mother, especially when the young girl wasn't shy about judging so harshly. But, even so, I still don't know what it means. On one hand, I'm sort of proud that I was right about Delphine, about her hiding something - in a way, ever since I've met her, she always did. But on the other hand, it leaves me restless.

If she's not what she appears, then what is she? What's her angle? What is she doing hanging out with people like the Websters, people she doesn't even trust, or even marry one of them. With what purpose?

This new information has left me with more questions than answers and instead of increasing my trust in her, it's only made my suspicions grow. Which side is she on? If she has a side at all.

Felix and Sarah get home at the same time, but only the later joins me in the kitchen. She trots inside, immediately peeking under the lid of the pan with simmering sauce.

"How did it go?" Sarah asks, leaning against the cupboard with her eyes steady on me.

I don't stop what I'm doing. "Fine."

"Did she give you a hard time about Frenchie?"

"No, actually!" I reply pointedly. "In fact she agreed with me and says I should nourish our relationship, try to get as much information from her as I can."

"You're joking?!"

This time I stop to look at her, the stunned expression too good to miss out. "Nope!"

Sarah recovers fast though and simply shrugs. "To be honest, I agree with that," she says, picking a piece of chopped carrot and crunching it with her teeth. "My only issue with that plan if that I'm worried it'll get personal… which, obviously, it will."

"You don't know that, Sarah!" I sound annoyed, I know that, but I'm seriously disliking her lack of confidence in me.

"I do, actually!" The states firmly. "The way you look at her…"

"What about it?" My interjection comes too quickly, my temperament slipping.

""You eye-bang her," Sarah says matter-of-factually. "Every. Single. Time." She punctuates every word with a move of the finger.

"I do not!" And now it sounds like whining, which is never, ever a good sign.

"Oh, please! A blind person could see it." My partner shakes her head. "And if Mrs. S was here to see it she wouldn't be so supportive of this line of thinking, but fine, fine." she raises both her hands in surrender. "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt."

"Good! Cause I've decided that the best course of action is to attend that fucking engagement party," I inform her, returning to my cooking.

"Oh great!" She raises her voice. "You know what? I take it back… I absolutely know this will spiral out of control."

"Thanks!" I say with irony.

"Just… Felix better not know about this," she throws on her way out, her tone much lower. "if he does, he'll lose his shit."

We're halfway through dinner and they seem satisfied enough with the meal when I decide to inform them of my impending trip. As predicted, both of them start to raise their voices with the news, annoyed that they'll get stuck in here, while I get to travel _in luxury_.

"I'll be working. I can't exactly say no to Daniel, he's our boss, after all," I defend, keeping my voice calm. "Besides, I've gone through this with Mrs. S and she said if you had any problems with it to take it up with her."

Both of them scowl, but at the mention of our leader their hostility dissipates.

"How happy was she to know about your boinking the future daughter-in-law?" Felix aims his anger in a different direction.

"We're not…"

"Cosima knows she has to stay away from Delphine. Right?" Sarah cuts me off and gives me a look that tells me I better agree with her or she'll cut my head off.

"Yes!" I nod vigorously, playing into her hand. "Not that I was doing anything wrong," I add nonetheless, "but Mrs. S has made it clear."

Felix gives me a cocky smile, convinced that his little backstabbing payed off and I let it go. He's not entirely wrong, especially in light of the new and disturbing information I now have on Delphine. Even if I still believe that the events so far have been completely under my control. Sure, I may have been smitten by the gorgeous blonde, but not once have I lost perspective. I haven't divulged anything that I shouldn't have or that would compromise our covers.

So what if I've lusted after Delphine? Is not like her fiancé is suspicious of anything out of the ordinary. Quite the contrary, in fact; he's been encouraging me to get closer to Delphine. It just so happens that his intentions and mine aren't exactly the same: he wants her to forge a relationship with someone he trusts, preferably keeping her away from his brother and I want… well, I want information, of course. And what better way to get it than getting closer to his stupidly hot fiancée, right?

If nothing else, my meeting with Mrs. S had the effect of calming Felix down. No longer continuously breathing down my neck about Delphine, peace reigns amongst us. For the first time since we've arrived, the mood between the three of us is easy, conversation falls in the common topics - at least for us.

Sarah has gotten her hands on the location of the new cameras and tells us that the installation will take place in the next two days, so everything is operational in time for the party. She has also obtained the names of the guests and the list is littered with the illustrious of politics, from both sides of the aisle, and businessmen from every area, from investment bankers to the oil industry.

This will be no family affair. The Websters are a small family, all of them living on the Estate. From Delphine's side no name comes up and I tell my companions that, as far as I'm aware, only her mother is alive, and lives in France.

"It might be a good opportunity for you to get a better feel of the Websters and the circle they move in," Sarah says to me, apparently having made peace with my attending the party.

"What do you mean?" Felix looks confused, his stare moves between the two of us.

"Cosima was invited," Sarah replies immediately in a firm voice, leaving no room for Felix's protests. "She's gonna take that chance to mingle and gather some information."

"If she can take her eyes off Delphine," he murmurs.

I roll my eyes, but once again ignore his personal note. "I should do a quick search on them, see if there's anything in common amongst the guests."

"Other than wanting to kiss the ass of a rich fuck?" Sarah says, shrugging.

"Yeah, maybe some similar investments or interests," I respond. "Something must be bringing these people together other than money."

"You're making more out of this than you should," Felix interjects with a doubtful look. "Money is money, Cosima. It's power and influence!"

"Maybe…" I say thoughtfully. "But it might worth a look."

"Sure," Felix waves his hand. "You're the one who has all the time in the world. You get to travel, attend fancy parties while we work like slaves."

I snort and he pouts. "What's gonna be your job at the party, anyway?" I ask.

"I'll be working at the door and coordinate the security team," is Sarah's answer. "Felix will be part of the team and work the floor."

"Oh the joy!" He says over dramatically, throwing both his hands in the air. "While Cosima will be enjoying the expensive wine and hors d'oeuvres."

"Life is so unfair to you, Fee," I tease him lightly and he gives me the middle finger.

Monday I schedule a meeting with Daniel, during which I inform him of my reconsideration about attending the party. He seems pleased with my change of heart and his mood improves when I tell him of my plan to leave for Poland the day after that.

"This is great news, Cosima!" He says cheerfully from his chair on the opposite side of the desk.

"Yes, my flight leaves early for to Zurich, and from there to Warsaw," I explain. "I should arrive early afternoon."

"Great! Lets find out what Mr. Baczkowski is all about," Daniel says. "Do you know where to start?"

I cross my legs and sit back on the chair. I didn't expect to take so long with Daniel, but I suppose it's reasonable that he asks about my plans. Fortunately, I'm prepared for this, having already started to think about what I'll do once I get there.

"I'm going to try to set some meetings with previous business partners," I tell him. "But I doubt I'll get much from them. It has been my experience that the more the spotlight is on you, the more careful you'll get." I watch as his eyes land on me more intensely than before, his wide smile falters for a brief instant.

"Our best bet will be to look at the beginning of his career," I continue, ignoring the alarms going off inside my head. "That's where we're more likely to find some dirt: on his way up. Once at the top, he'd be more mindful of his steps." I stop and shake my head, putting on a smile and trying to relieve the tension. "If the rumours are true, of course. For all we know, he could be squeaky clean and that's what we want, right?"

"Right!" He nods, the uncertainty still showing in his eyes. "But we must be sure!" Daniel insists.

"And we will," I assure him. "If there's anything on him, I'll find it."

At least I sound more certain than what I feel. Truth is, I don't have much to go on, just a few names taken from the newspaper clips Daniel himself provided me with. But I need to start somewhere and this seems as good a plan as any. Once there, I'll try to track the Polish businessman's steps, hopefully get his first attempts at breaking into the world. What I said to Daniel is exactly what I think: Mariusz Baczkowski's illegal activities would've been more obvious in his early years. My only problem with this plan is how am I gonna get this information. But that's a problem to solve once I'm there. It's a flawed plan, but it's a plan nonetheless.

Besides, I'm counting on Mrs. S to give me some more information. By her reaction to the name I can easily conclude he's no stranger to her. Perhaps together we can gather enough information to satisfy Daniel's inquiry, while at the same time shed some light onto our own situation.

The days leading to the party don't feel quite tight. Apart from the construction crew still working on the garage, the Estate sees a number of strangers coming and going. Two men come to install the new CCTV system, driving around the entire property in a golf cart, a ladder on the rooftop and place the high-tech, wireless, water resistant cameras atop old, high trees. A catering company has started to work on the preparation for the big event, and supply vans are a constant, entering and exiting the main gate.

Sarah and Felix are always busy, coordinating efforts to make sure everything goes without a hitch during the reception of the influential figures, while the Websters remain ignorant that the type of people they're working so hard to keep out have already been invited to work on the Estate's security. Not only that; they continue to be completely oblivious that the biggest threat could come from none other than the fiancée for whom they're throwing the party.

I watch everything from the living room's window, sitting on the couch, the personal computer that I brought with me on my legs, but the quick search I do on the names in the guest list doesn't raise any red flags. At the same time, I make the last preparations for the trip abroad; reserving the plane ticket, a suite at Hotel Rialto - no need to be cheap when someone else is paying, especially when I don't know how long I'll be staying - feeling restless about using my real identity. At least the Irish nationality Mrs. S fabricated to me years ago will grant me free pass in Europe and I don't need to worry about visas. No one has bothered to question an Irish with Niehaus for last name. Gotta love globalization.

One thing that I can't help but notice is Delphine's absence. The blonde doesn't seem to want anything to do with the organization of her own engagement party. She has come over briefly one afternoon, but left quickly and, as far as I've seen, remains notably absent during the preparation for the celebration.

My decision about attending the engagement had changed the moment I left Mrs. S, and that's when I took to buy myself a dress. The guests have already arrived and I suspect the party is in full swing when I eye myself in the mirror, the earthly pattern dress, full of dark yellows and light browns hug my figure tightly up to the mid thigh and showing a generous but respectable cleavage. Fortunately my hair doesn't require much maintenance when I need to put it up, still, I take a while to twist them to form a perfect circle on the back of my head. The black high heels match the thick stockings that will help with the cold, raising me a few inches. One last look in the mirror, adjusting the glasses and I'm ready to go.

The front door is open, Sarah and a big, black fellow of the security team stand at the front, both of them fully dressed in black and with earpieces. She checks something on the tablet she's holding without saying anything, her eyes hardly leave my figure.

"Eyes on the prize, Cos," she whispers at me, low enough for the man on the other side of the door doesn't hear.

"How are things?" I ask her loud, ignoring her remark.

"This has to be the most boring party ever thrown," she answers and this time the man hears it, snickering at he comment.

The great hall is well lit. A bar has been placed in front of the kitchen door and the big dining room doors are wide open. The large table has disappeared to make room for the party attendants to move around unrestricted. Waiters in tuxedos wander around the guests with silver trays of finger food and drinks. The library door is closed, probably locked, and the stairwell that leads to the upper levels is blocked by the typical velvet rope. Next to it, a string quartet that no one pays attention to, plays.

What immediately stands out is the gender separation. Men in groups with other men and women form several circles, talking amongst themselves while sipping white wine. The weirdest sensation that I'm back in high school comes to me and I chuckle to myself, shaking my head as I go to the bar. The bartender makes a big deal out of preparing me the sparkling water that I order and places it in front of me with a grand gesture. I turn around and face the hall, in the corner of my eye I spot Felix, sharply dressed with impeccably styled hair. He gives me a pointed stare and I just give him a subtly thumbs up. He can be an asshole sometimes, but he knows how to look good.

"Is this the saddest party you've ever seen, or what?"

At my side, Will leans against the bar countertop, the glass in his hands filled to the brim with an amber liquid and a single ice cube.

"I really don't think people are supposed to enjoy these sort of events," I say looking at him with an easy smile on my lips.

"Right! It's all about the bride and groom." He nods and laughs, his red rimmed eyes assure me he's not completely sober. "Or just the groom, in this case. I doubt Delphine knows anyone around here."

"She knows you," I say meekly.

"And you!" Will aims a finger my way. "I've noticed you two have become quite close."

I struggle to maintain the eye contact. "Your brother's afraid she's getting bored," I offer as an explanation, my voice rises a couple of octaves but hopefully he doesn't realize it over the sound of the guests and his intoxicated mind.

"No shit!" The youngest Webster doesn't show any signs of reading my hesitation. "My brother has gotta be the most boring person on Earth. To this day I have no idea how he could've convinced someone like Delphine to marry him."

I raise an amused brow. "Well… there's gotta be something, right?"  
"You know… usually my first guess would be money," Will says without pause, his tongue well lubricated, and his mind more unguarded than I initially thought. "But I tried my luck with her before Daniel came into play and she was… extremely unresponsive."

"You met her first?" I ask, suddenly very interested in the casual conversation.

"We knew each other back when we were kids," he continues to talk. "And I ran into her back in New York, started to talk… you know, for old times sake." He winks suggestively. "But there was never anything other than the occasional coffee, just hanging out. Then, one day, Daniel tags along and… swear to God… they just hit it off right away."

"So, in a way, you introduced them." I try to coax more out of him.

"Yeah! And did my dear brother ever thank me for introducing him to what has to be the hottest woman he has ever laid eyes in?" He asks rhetorically. "Hell no! Fucking bastard!" He finishes with a laugh and a liberal swing of his glass.

"It wasn't meant to be, Will." I sympathetically pat his shoulder and motivate another fit of laughter from him.

"It's probably better this way," he continues in a joking manner. "I'd never made an honest woman out of her. Isn't that right, big brother?"

I turn around to find Daniel standing behind me, dressed in an elegant gray suit, traditional white shirt and deep blue tie, the forced smile on his lips doesn't meet his eyes.

"Yes, quite right!" Daniel answers, before he looks at me and his expression softens. "Glad you could make it, Cosima."

"Sure…" I reply vaguely, my attention elsewhere.

Delphine is but a few steps behind and everything falls to the background when I lay my eyes on her. Breathtaking in the dress we chose, her lean figure moves with natural ease, every delicious curve of her body on subtle display and claiming attention. Her blonde curls exquisitely pulled up, the light make-up allows the vision of her natural beauty, the lustful lips in ruby-red. Delicate, but toned shoulders sway with her steps, the cleavage of the dress a feast for the eyes. My body tenses irrationally, the hand holding the glass grips tightly and I can't keep my eyes from admiring her figure.

"Cosima," she says in a low voice, a brow raises when my eyes finally reach hers.

She's not pleased, that much is obvious. Her bright beautiful eyes narrow just scarcely, her jaw set to restrain her emotions. The quiet fury doesn't make her any less appealing.

"I suppose congratulations are in order," I say, feeling more delighted than I should.

"Thank you!" She answers abruptly enough for my smirk to grow wider.

"Do you have a date yet?" I ask casually, my discomfort swallowed down with a sip of the sparkling water.

"No, not yet," Daniel answers looking at the blonde with hopeful eyes. "We can't seem to agree on it. But Delphine is keen on having a late spring wedding."

The last word feels like a punch to the stomach, which I take with little to no reaction, at least externally. Inside, my guts twist, sickening bile rises to my mouth and it's so fucking stupid. Of course there's a wedding, the sooner I get that inside my head the better, but I foolishly thought I could hear it and remain indifferent. Except, until now, it has all been in the realm of hypotheticals, hearing the word aloud is a strong blow. Anger and the now familiar misplaced jealousy grows in my chest when I see Daniel's arm circle the lithe waist of the gorgeous woman, pulling at her subtly. I conceal my emotions, bringing the glass to my lips again, but my eyes insist on scanning for Delphine's reaction, her glare discreetly in my direction, but her body language shows signs of discomfort, her hips, ever-so-slightly, distance themselves from her fiancé.

I look away, for no other reason than the fact that I can't take the sight anymore, even if I suspect there's something more to Delphine's connection to this family, even if this is all a front, it feels too real to me at this moment. The urge to pull Delphine away builds inside me and I need to avert my eyes before I do something even more stupid than leer at her in front of her nearsighted husband-to-be.

The door for the library opens and from inside comes out a man in his late-sixties early-seventies, holding the door is the eldest Webster. He doesn't say a word, but nods his head in out direction.

"If you'll excuse me," Daniel says quickly, his hand thankfully slipping from the blonde's waist. "Duty calls."

"That's my brother for you," Will says while the three of us watch Daniel shut the door to the library. "Not even his own engagement party stops him from working."

Meanwhile, my eyes go the old man who walked out and joined a group of equally old man, taking a glass of champagne as a waiter passes by him.

"Some things can't wait," I prompt, trying to extract more information from the talkative Will.

He only shrugs though and gives no more insight into their lives. Seems like I've exhausted this source of information for the day.

"No, my brother is just an ass!" Will says, searching his pockets until he finds an sloppily rolled joint and tucks it between his lips, smiling widely, before he heads towards the door.

I raise a brow and look at Delphine. "A glimpse into your future," I offer with a bite. "Maybe you should've chosen Will, at least he knows how to party."

"What are you doing here?" Delphine whispers harshly, completely ignoring my jab, her angry expression getting too close for comfort.

"I'm here to celebrate your engagement," I answer casually, moving both my arms to take in the entire room. "Your fiancé invited me."

"You said you wouldn't come!" Her voice remains tense, but she backs away, her eyes scanning the room to see if our exchange is attracting any unwanted attention.

"I changed my mind," I continue in a calm voice. "People do that all the time, right?"

Delphine takes a deep breath, apparently trying to calm herself and a sudden surge of pride grows inside me. It feels good not to be the one who's left frustrated with our conversations, for once she's the one grasping for control.

"We're not kids anymore, Cosima." When Delphine speaks again she sounds more serene, there's a certain affection in her voice that catches me by surprise. "Our actions have serious consequences."

"They always have!" And now is me who's struggling not to raise my voice.

"Not like this!" She points out quickly.

"What are you doing with him?" I ask abruptly, the bite in my tone returns. "And don't tell me you're madly in love with that nitwit!"

Delphine looks stunned for a while, her eyes wide open until she catches herself and looks around us once more. "You don't know what you're talking about!" She says fast, with fiery anger in her stare.

I blink a few times, just enough to miss her leave and cross the door into the kitchen.

"Shit!" I whisper to myself, hesitating, briefly not knowing what to do.

As I walk after her, I catch a glimpse of Felix, shaking his head and giving me one of his ugly looks. I should think about the consequences of what I'm doing or how it's so much more important to stay and try to gather some much needed information out of the guests. But even if my mind could think of something other than Delphine, there was no way I would be successful. No one who could introduce me to strangers is even in the room, and I'm sure to raise some eyebrows if I start eavesdropping on conversations.

In the kitchen everyone is too busy to pay attention to the small woman barging in and, after a quick look around, exiting through the backdoor. The night is cold, but windless, the sky dark, covered in low clouds and the only illumination is the one provided by the small lamps scattered along the lawn of the backyard. The rest of the property is in complete darkness. I shiver, bracing my arms around my torso and start to walk.

I turn the corner of the building and find Delphine smoking, leaning against the wall with her head turned up to the sky.

"I'm not sure, but I think it's in bad taste to abandon your own engagement party," I say, getting closer.

Delphine doesn't move from her place, she doesn't even turn her eyes to me and she doesn't seem all that surprise that I've come after her.

"We couldn't exactly stay inside now, could we?" She says in controlled anger, the smoke she expels mingles with her breath.

And now I'm sure she expected me to follow her. "Yeah… God forbid if everyone finds out you actually have a personality to go with that sublime body," I comment carelessly, hugging myself. "Fuck, it's cold!"

"Then go back inside!" She gives one last hit on the cigarette and throws it to the ground.

I step on it, but that's as much as I move. I'm seemingly unable to leave her, even as we stay stubbornly quiet, minutes pass by us unnoticed, our breaths fog our sight and we stay still.

"I wish you hadn't come."

Delphine's voice is little more than a whisper. I look at her and see her leaning her head against the wall, her chin up but eyes closed as she takes a deep breath.

"Why?" I ask equally low. "Would it make it easier for you to carry on with this?"

"You don't…" she stops and shakes her head slowly, releasing a frustrated sigh. "This is bigger than you could possibly understand."

A weak wind rises and I shiver again, but instead of making me leave, I remain still, my eyes refusing to leave hers. "What have you gotten yourself into, Delphine?"

Finally she looks back at me, frowning, and moves a little closer, turning to her side, her shoulder leaning against the wall still while she brings a hand to my face, her cold knuckles brush my cheek and I remain unmoving, mesmerized by the change in her expression. Not even in the moment of the most turmoil could I deny the tenderness of the gesture, the quietness painting her features, the resolute veil she covers herself in falling to reveal an unexpected vulnerability.

"This is not how I pictured us meeting again," Delphine says haphazardly.

I'm speechless, watching her bite her lower lip, feeling the hand curve around my neck as her thumb rolls over my lips and I know I'm lost.

I would've made the first move if Delphine hadn't. Her lips drop to mine, soft and tentative at first and I don't think the hesitation is born of self-doubt, but rather from fear that I'd reject her. But I don't. I couldn't even if a million years had passed. I pull her to me with my hands going to her waist and she cradles my face with a strong grasp.

Delphine's kisses feel different from what I remember. More determined, more passionate, more eager. Her hunger is undeniable. There is a powerful craving behind her touch, and the way she moves to pin me against the wall, presses her body into mine has my head spinning. I tug her to me, my hands roam the smooth, cool skin of her back, my fingers slipping under the low cutout of her dress and she follows my lead. Her hands leave my face, press along my sides and pull my hips forward before her own push against me and trap me between her body and the wall again. Her tongue enters my mouth briefly, teasingly, but pulls out to run along my lips and I groan. My own tongue sinks into her mouth, not nearly as elegantly as hers, but equally effective. Her grip tightens, and her fingers dig into my flesh desperately, moving lower to pull me by my backside.

My guts twist, the pressure between my legs rises, and I moan when her hands yank at me firmly, bringing me to the tips of my toes, and the only balance I have is sustained by her body pressed against mine. Delphine's mouth drops to my neck, but her kisses lose none of the intensity and I snake one of my hands between our bodies, spreading my fingers to feel as much of her as possible. Finding a supple breast, feeling her moan against my sink, I shiver once more, but this time pleasure is the culprit.

In a sudden motion, Delphine grabs both of my arms to hold my wrists above my head, and I lose the feel of her lips. She rests her forehead on my shoulder, her deep breaths warming the skin of my collarbone, and she shakes her head from side to side.

"This is a mistake," I barely hear her say. "You shouldn't have come."

And just like that she walks away without another word, without so much as a glance over her shoulder. Delphine walks quickly, turning the corner and out of my sight.


	23. Growing Pains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: looks like it's flashback week!  
> Thanks to Cophine for the amazing work.

In a short period of time, we developed a system. Mornings were dedicated to our classes, and during the breaks in between, Delphine would often join me at my desk, keeping a comfortable distance and the conversation to the subject at hand. To a casual observer, it would appear she'd found a new friend while abandoning the old ones - and we  _were_ friends. At lunch we would be joined by Delphine's other new friend, Scott, whose infatuation with the gorgeous blonde was ill-disguised, but perfectly innocent. And who could blame him, really?

But the best part of the days were after lunch. We would leave the awkward young man to head to the library where it was perfectly acceptable to sit right next to each other, chairs dragged as close as possible. Anything was a good reason to exchange a fleeting touch or a whisper into each other's ear. Truth be told, the paper was already complete. We'd discussed every little sentence to exhaustion because there was really nothing else to add.

It was for the benefit of others - I knew even then. The only reason we kept meeting at the library and pretended to work on the assignment was because it provided a good pretext to continue getting together. Delphine might've been on a path to change, but she was still clinging to her old life. Appearances were still part of who she was, even if their role had seriously diminished. Maybe it was because I feared that bringing this to her attention would cause her to break our arrangement, but I never raised the question, and we kept meeting in the library, uselessly wasting our time, going over and over our finished work.

Besides, if anyone bothered to look closely - and I was sure many did - they could see right through our facade. We made little to no effort in hiding our intimacy when in the library. Perhaps she thought the rules didn't apply as they did in any other public place. It was all rather pointless, really, but it seemed Delphine thought it necessary and I just went along with it.

Some times, we lingered more than others, two even three hours, while on other occasions it was barely half an hour before we packed our things and quickly made for the door. More often than not, and anytime the weather permitted, we would go back to the old shed and get the bikes - with Delphine on guard duty at the door, refusing to enter. We would take the same bikes and peddle away. If, like I suspected, our petty theft was known to the school administration, no one ever bothered to secure the decaying building with a more efficient lock.

Together we explored the woods surrounding the school grounds, Delphine carrying her backpack with a small sketchbook and the occasional snacks. Even if there was a light rain, we would go out anyway and seek shelter under the thick trees to talk. Delphine would tell me about her plans to look for her father once she graduated, even at the expense of her studies. She missed her home country, with a more forgiving weather and the caring of a father that didn't relegate her to the background as an inconvenience to be shipped away and occasionally visited to maintain the appearance of a concerned parent. Mostly, she missed having some sort of control of her life, even if limited by her youth. Several times, Delphine professed hatred towards her mother and how the woman who was supposed to protect her made the conscious decision to remove her daughter from her life in favor of a man whose only advantage was financial stability.

Compared to her I was a lot less practical. When it was my time to share, I would stammer, my future even bleaker than hers. My only option was to hope for a full scholarship, and if I wasn't that lucky, I would have to rely on the little savings I inherited from my grandmother and hope for the best.

"You really need to have a better plan," Delphine told me with some humor after I revealed this to her. "Before long we'll be out of here and have to face the real world."

I shrugged. "Sister Mary is helping me with some applications," I said, referring the school counselor. "She says I have some really good options, most likely in England. They have a few University affiliates that are willing to take me in if I'm able to keep my grades."

"Oh… I see… That's why you were so worried about our paper," she comments with irony, giving me an amused look.

"I don't need this paper for my grades." I chuckled. "But I needed you to know I could be just as stubborn."

Delphine smirked, laying her sketchbook aside with the few doodles she had been scribbling since we sat under the large tree. She said nothing, only kept smiling as she moved to sit on my lap and placed both hands on my cheeks, tilting my head up to receive a small peck on my lips.

"I've never doubted your ability to be stubborn," she murmured against my lips, with a little laugh.

My arm wound beneath her coat and I pulled her closer to me, tugging on her lower back while she adjusted to be more comfortable, her nose brushing against mine with a small sigh. I raised my head up, searching for another kiss and Delphine complied. She lowered her head and pulled me to her mouth, the grasp on my face tightened just barely and her body scooted closer.

It was gradual, the way we adapted to each other, the way we began to learn the boundaries we could breach and when, but it was always Delphine who set the pace, much slower than my eagerness demanded. When my hands strayed too far from what she seemed comfortable, she wouldn't say a word, but would subtly move them back to safer territory. And I would let her guide me, groaning in slight frustration, but I would submit, feeling my hands being dragged away from silky soft skin and placed over the fabric of her clothes.

Although, not that time. That time, when my hands pulled the shirt from the waist of her skirt and skimmed her lower back, feeling smooth skin, Delphine didn't stop me. Instead she deepened the kiss. I felt her take a deep breath against my lips, and her hands left my face, arms wrapping around my neck to pull me closer and her waist surged forward. Encouraged, I allowed my hands to move more freely, the initial tension in my arms loosened and I took her hips in my hands, letting my fingers dig in her flesh and she responded with a faint moan that sounded like music to my ears. Her tongue swept over mine, exploring openly as she hadn't before, and she attached her mouth to mine, robbing me of breath and pulled my body to hers.

I felt slightly dizzy. My lips moved with purpose, and I felt the slopes of her graceful form melt into mine as her deep breaths pushed her chest against mine, giving my hands some sort of electric energy. It was an unconscious action that drew my right hand up, and only when her soft skin ended and I felt the lace of her bra, did I stop, but my hand remained still, a touch that hardly made any real contact. Delphine gasped, but instead of pushing me away, her hands cradled my face, and she guided my head to her neck with unrestrained impatience. Despite my surprise, I didn't hesitate, drawing my lips along her long neck, laying soft kisses. I could feel the rapid thumping of her heart beneath my lips and her tense fingers digging into the unruly waves of my hair. I didn't even think about questioning her intentions; my body was working independently from my mind, which was uncharacteristically quiet. My only reaction was to follow her lead. My hand on her chest lost its shyness and rather than being reluctant, Delphine encouraged my exploration by pulling my lips to hers, muffling a groan as she began to slowly rock against me.

It took my other hand working at the top button of her shirt for Delphine to stop me.

"Cosima…" she managed between deep breaths.

Immediately I paused, my hands resting where they were and I looked up at her. "Sorry," I whispered, but it was meaningless; the only thing I was sorry for was stopping.

She leaned back and I let my hands drop to her waist, safely on the outside of her clothes. "It's just that…" Delphine's words came slowly.

"I know." I nodded, speaking softly as well, my hands smoothly rubbing her hips to give her some comfort, to keep her trust in me. "We can stop."

Delphine hummed and nodded also, the knuckles of her left hand brushing my cheek and she rested her forehead on mine, her breathing still labored, her right arm still wrapped around my neck. She didn't move for a long moment, but dropped her head to the curve of my neck and I pulled her closer with my arms around her waist. Meanwhile, I was struggling not to resume where we left off, my heart thundering in my chest, and my hands were itching to return to more pleasant activities.

When I returned to my room that night I could still feel her body pressed against me, her cold fingers playing with the small hairs at the base of my neck, her breath warming my skin. It was then that I knew I'd never felt desire before. I had wanted her close. I had craved her kisses and wished to feel her soft touch against my skin. But nothing like this. My body was abuzz and complaining with unrelieved desire. What we'd had so far had been enough, but not anymore. I wanted something else; I wanted more.

The change came right after that, and has remained a mystery to me to this day.

I first noticed it Monday, after one of the few weekends Delphine didn't stay in school. Or perhaps the change was before that and I just didn't realize it. She never mentioned her leaving for the weekend, and I only found out Saturday morning when she didn't show up for breakfast.

That Monday, Delphine didn't come to my desk. In fact, she scarcely looked at me before she was looking away. She ate by herself, leaving me and Scott puzzled when we saw her taking an empty table in the far end of the cafeteria. I said nothing, despite the looks my friend gave me, and remained silent, keeping my thoughts to myself, probably afraid of what he had to say.

When I didn't find her in the library or anywhere near it, I decided to look for her. The rain hammered violently against the windows of the large common area, the gusting wind making the glass tremble within the wooden frames, and I was sure she wouldn't go outside with weather like that. It was the sound of loud giggles, which supplanted the wind and rain that drew my attention to the corner where the popular crowd used to hang out during the afternoon. Among them, partially concealed by several heads, Delphine's blonde curls stood out.

I frowned, part of me unsure, perhaps thinking my eyes were deceiving me as I moved to get a better view. When I got the confirmation, I hesitated, wondering what the hell was going on and what would be the best approach. Without realizing it, uneasy steps were bringing me closer to the group.

"Delphine." I heard myself calling her in a barely audible voice.

She rose her eyes to me, her expression, which before was of glee, looked clueless. "Yes?" She asked in a confusion that I knew was fake.

I hesitated again, feeling all eyes on me as I uncomfortably shifted my weight from one foot to another. "Hmm… Weren't we supposed to meet in the library?"

"Why?" She knitted her brows, giving a surprised look at the other girls. It was all an act, for the benefit of others. In fact, she was the only one who knew what was going on, the rest of us being game pieces she moved as she pleased. "The paper is complete, right?"

"Well… yeah, but…"

I wasn't exactly confused as I was stunned. This came so unexpectedly that I was unable to react. Had it been today, when I was older and wiser, I would've been prepared, would've known how she can manipulate a conversation to her convenience. But I was too young, moved by emotions I couldn't control. It was as if she had years on me, a lifetime of experiences I knew nothing about, which made her more self-assured. She was steadily grounded while I was adrift, roaming without knowing where I was and even less of where I was going.

"Move along weirdo," one of the obnoxious girls, whose name I never bothered to learn, said with a flick of her wrist. "I don't want to be seen speaking to you."

That was the point when anger kicked in, flaring inside my chest and fueled by the laughter coming from the girls. My gaze landed on Delphine, who, despite not joining the laughter, didn't seem particularly disturbed by it as she looked at me briefly before her poised stare moved to focus on no one, on nothing at all.

"Then you should be fine, since I'm obviously not talking to you!" I snapped, my eyes going back to the girl.

She looked shocked for a moment, probably not used to be treated so harshly, before she gave me a mocking smile. "Seriously, Delphine, how did you manage to... associate with her for so long?" She then asked, looking at the blonde.

All eyes turned to Delphine, mine included and I waited for her response, for her validation, for her to prove my wary instincts were wrong. It couldn't possibly be true. She wouldn't have abandoned me without so much as an explanation. Things couldn't be right one day only to crumble the next. Even with the evidence right in front of me, I refused to believe it, the Delphine I knew wouldn't do such a thing. She was a caring soul, and even if she was a bit rough around the edges, her heart was in the right place.

"She was entertaining… for a while." It was her cold stare my way and the provocative smile that stung more, not exactly the words. "Of course, one gets bored of the pity act rather quickly." She twisted the knife and the girls continued to laugh.

I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms. I was beyond disappointed. Angry isn't a strong enough way to describe how I felt. I could feel the hate sipping into my body like a poison, carried to every inch of me by my blood with the beat of my raging heart.

"You didn't seem particularly bored when you were shoving your tongue down my throat!" I said in a cold, low voice, my stare locked on hers until she lowered her eyes and for the first time I saw her unforgiving mask waver.

There was a collective gasp, but I didn't stick around to contemplate any further reaction from Delphine or the other girls. I had no intention to be humiliated further. After I said the words, I turned on my heel and walked away.

I was too furious to really assess what had happened, and humiliated tears clouded my vision as I stormed into my bedroom, which was thankfully empty, and slammed the door shut.

I should've listened to my friend - my only friend - Scott. Why didn't I? Delphine had a reputation for a reason! But no… I wouldn't believe it. I thought I was right and everyone else was wrong. How pretentious I was! Thinking she was different… or maybe she was, just not for the best. Others wouldn't have gone to the trouble of leading me on just to cause irreparable damage. No, at least they were honest about it.

In the hours that followed, I couldn't rationalize that the vulnerability Delphine had displayed, or the affection she had showed, not so much with words but actions, would've been impossible to fake. I didn't even stop to think what could be at the root of such a drastic change; what must have happened to made her go from warm - some times even scorching hot - to cold and indifferent. All I knew was anger, a rage that consumed me for years to come, underlined by a rejection that I truly never overcame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: if everything goes according to plans, we will only return once more to the past to wrap this up.


	24. Cursed City

I hardly have time to collect my bag from the rolling belt when my phone rings. Fumbling with the luggage, I press the button and tuck the phone between my ear and shoulder.

"Yeah?" I answer breathlessly.

"Cosima, did everything go as planned? No problems at the borde?" Daniel's voice enters my ear and I'm reminded that, at his request, I emailed him my flight plans.

"Yes, all good," I reply, rolling the bag down the polished floor.

"Great!" He sounds hesitant and the line goes silent for a few seconds. "I was disappointed that I couldn't catch you before you left."

"Yes, I wanted to leave early, didn't want to miss my flight," I say carefully, appearing as available as possible. "Besides, we had discussed my plans, I didn't think you'd want to meet before I leave. If I had known it I would've made an effort..."

"Oh, no, no..." Daniel says quickly. "I just wanted to thank you for looking after Delphine last night. She told me about it."

I stop abruptly, causing a few people run into me and mutter things that I probably wouldn't like to hear even if I was able to understand them, but I'm too baffled by his words to care. What exactly did Delphine tell him and why would she tell him anything at all? The only thing I know for sure is that, whatever story she told him, it certainly wasn't the truth, otherwise I firmly suspect he wouldn't be thanking me or would be inclined to show appreciation about having Delphine all over me last night - however briefly.

"Hello? Are you still there?" He calls.

"Yeah... Yes!" I snap out of it. "And there's nothing to thank me for." I vaguely reply.

"Nonsense!" His voice sounds loud in my ears, as I step outside and wave down a taxi. "Of course I'm counting on your discretion."

"Absolutely!" I say with conviction, but feeling utterly confused. My instinct telling me to just go along with it. "Don't worry about it."

"Great!" He repeats, but this time sounding a lot more genuine, almost relieved.

"My taxi is here," I tell him as a way to end the conversation, watching the driver place my luggage in the trunk.

"Yes, yes, of course," Daniel says. "Keep in touch."

"I will," I say, sliding inside the cab and taking a deep breath when he ends the call.

The hotel suite is large, with a living room and a bedroom decorated with a quiet elegance, although I barely have the energy to appreciate it. Exhaustion makes my muscles heavy from the travel and a night without sleep. When I got to the cottage last night after Delphine left, the first thing I did was take a shower to rid myself of the smell of her subtle perfume and the feel of her lean body pressed against mine. It was hardly helpful. My memory played tricks on me, not letting me rest as my mind catalogued the differences; what had changed in her touch, how much more desperate it felt, or how her kisses had gained an intensity I wasn't familiar with. I tossed and turned in the bed, hearing Sarah and Felix come in, and held my breath, fearing they'd storm into my room and demand answers, and sighing in relief when the house had gone quiet without me being disturbed in my fake slumber. And, still, I wasn't able to relax.

I woke before the alarm went off and made as little noise as possible as I prepared to leave to avoid waking my housemates. A taxi drove me to the airport, where I arrived way too early, hoping that the long flight would allow me the time to calm my mind. But nothing could be further from the truth. With nothing else to do, instead of resting, my thoughts tormented me non stop; replaying last night's events on a loop until I could feel her again, her strong hands pulling me to her and setting my world ablaze. Against my best judgement, the hate I once felt, some of which still clung to me over the years, began to melt with every loop of that memory. And yet, I still feel the anger, perhaps a bit more vividly than the last few years, like a beast that has been sleeping and is now awake.

It's an unique trait of Delphine. No one, before or after her, had been able to evoke such conflicting emotions within me. No one even came close and that's probably why I was never really able to let go. The scars she left stand alone, never really mended, only barely covered. And it's silly, after so many years, I should be able to see it through an objective perspective and despite knowing this, I simply can't. Whether or not I unconsciously refuse to let go of the past or never mentally prepared myself for it, thinking I would never lay eyes on her again, I do not know. It's just the way it is, and now that the task is upon me, I'm no closer to accomplishing it than I was over a decade ago.

Only now, that thousands of miles stand between Delphine and I, does my mind give me some respite. The moment I'm settled in the hotel suite, I collapse on the queen size bed and my eyes close and I fall into a deep sleep. It will get easier now, I think before sleep takes over; easier because I have something that'll take my mind off her and help me refocus on something I can control. In the morning I'll start looking for answers.

And that's exactly what I do. I get up early, my energy restored with a good night of sleep and head down to the breakfast lounge in comfortable sweatpants and a hoodie. Few people are up at 7.30 and the ones who are are businessmen, dressed in impeccably pressed suits and reading the paper while they eat. An hour later, after a shower, I'm ready to face the harsh Warsaw winter, and the snow that had draped the European capital with blanket of white, shining brightly under the weak sun.

My first stop is the _Rzeczpospolita_ headquarters, a national circulation newspaper, and the source of the few clips I'd found, all of them signed by a Oskar Karasek, who happens to be exactly who I'm looking for. I figured, since I'm using the man as a stepping stone, may as well go directly to him and see if I can persuade him to help me. I approach the reception desk and a pretty, young woman with dark eyes and light brown hair shows me a pleasant but sleepy smile.

" _Tak_?" She says.

I frown slightly and lean closer over the high desk. "Good morning, I'm looking for Mr. Karasek" I reply in English, hoping she understands.

Her smile grows a little and she nods. "He's not in yet. Do you have an appointment?"

I press my lips together in an apologetic smile, even though this fault is calculated; it's much harder to refuse a meeting when the person is already waiting. "No, I don't. But I'm in the country for only a few days and I have some urgency in the matter."

"Okay," she answers, continuing to nod. "I'll let him know you're here when he arrives." She pauses to pick up a pen. "Your name?"

"Anne Sullivan," I answer in the moment. "I work for the Wall Street Journal."

The young woman scribbles it down and directs me to take a seat in the lobby.

I sit and wait. There's little movement in the lobby this early morning, but it assures me that I won't run into many people, which is exactly what I want. I have no interest in attracting attention to myself. Even so, the few people who come in do look my way and the longer I have to wait the worse it'll get.

I've been waiting for at least half an hour when I finally get up from my seat and go to the front desk again. "Excuse me," I say to the same receptionist. "You haven't forgotten about me, have you?" I ask with a crooked smile.

She smiles as well. "Oh no. I've informed Mr. Karasek that you're waiting for him."

"So he has arrived already?" I ask surprised.

"Yes. He said he'll be right over."

"Oh... Okay." I frown and return to my seat.

Sure enough, after five more minutes, I'm approached by a man in his late thirties early forties with prematurely gray hair that frames pleasant, boyish features in an uncontrollable mess. His dark gray suit is in disarray and his blue tie is loose, appearing as if he just woke up after a hard night which he, no doubt, spent inside that same suit.

"Ms. Sullivan?" He asks, extending his hand.

"Mr. Karasek," I take his hand for a firm and energetic handshake.

"Follow me!" He says and doesn't wait as he makes his way out the door.

Confused, I fumble with my coat, beanie and shoulder bag and hurriedly chase after him.

It has started to snow again, and light flakes fall from low, heavy clouds to soften the cobblestone sidewalk. I struggle to keep up with his long steps, tightening the coat around myself and meet his stare when he looks back once over his shoulder, giving me a easy smile. We don't go far, turning into a small coffee house at the end of the block, and he claims one of the corner tables. Even before I take the seat in front of him, one of the waiters is setting an espresso on the table.

He looks at me, lightning a cigarette. "Can I get you anything?" He asks amid a cloud of smoke.

"No, thank you," I answer politely. "I was wondering if you could shed some light on a person who seems to interest us both."

"I'm interested in a great many people, Ms. Sullivan," he says casually, his English perfect but heavily accented. "For instance, now I'm very interested in you." He finishes by aiming his cigarette at me.

I tilt my head and squint. "I'm not sure I follow you..."

"Imagine, for the sake of argument, that after Eliza - that's the lovely lady you met - has told me about you, I called my contact at the Journal," he says lightly, almost amused. "And, lets say, that after he complained about the ungodly hour, he told me that no one with your name works there."

"It's a big paper," I comment with a shrug, not letting him know how unnerved I'm really feeling. This is not going well.

"Please, Ms. Sullivan - if that's even your name - do not insult me." He continues politely, affable even. "I don't think this will work if you continue to insist on this lie."

I sigh and twist my lips annoyed, but knowing that I've been made. "Fine!" I concede. "But if you knew I wasn't who I said I was, then why did you agree to meet with me?"

"Professional curiosity!" He says, raising both his arms, making a few heads turn our way.

He seems to be enjoying himself, but I don't particularly like it. It's making me second guess my decision. After all, journalists can be a difficult class of people to work with if your priority is to keep a low profile. Without a word, I start to rise.

"Oh... Come now," he says watching me. "Why don't you sit down and tell me about this person who interests us both?"

I look down at him and think for a brief moment. This is not ideal, but I really don't have any other option.

"Mariusz Baczkowski" I say, struggling to pronounce the name correctly.

His expression becomes serious at the mention of the name and he takes a deep breath, leaning back in his chair. "Why does he interest you?"

I sit down and look him in the eyes. "I can't disclose that," I say with caution.

"Who are you working for?" He presses, curiosity sparkling in his eyes.

"I'm not at liberty to..."

He raises his hand to stop me. "Let me see if I have this right: you want information from me, but won't disclose any of your own." The smile is back on his face. "I don't think you're aware of how these sort of things work."

I unbutton my coat and lean comfortably on the chair. He may be acting defensively, but I know I've peaked his curiosity, and need to take advantage of that to get what I want without revealing more than I'm willing to. He's shrewd and I might've been caught off guard by his cunningness, but I'm not new to this.

"I can give you a story about Mr. Baczkowski, but I need what you have on him first." I tell him.

"You know what that says?" The journalist's eyes are on me, interested despite his words. "You have nothing, otherwise you wouldn't have sought me out."

"I have means that you don't," I counter. "And, in truth, what you know so far I can just as easily discover, I'm just trying to save some time." I bluff, but my voice is steady. "It's a very good deal from your perspective: you save me some time and, in return, you get a very nice exclusive."

He smiles is easy as he brings the cigarette to his lips for one last hit. "And how do I know that once you get what you want, you won't forget about me?" He challenges. "I don't even know your real name?"

"You don't!" I shrug. "But I suspect that we're on the same side. Besides, from what I read in your articles, it doesn't seem like you have much concrete evidence, just a lot of supposition." All lies - we haven't even gone to the trouble of translating his pieces. "What I want to find out is how much of it it's true."

"Oh... It's true alright!" He states firmly, nodding his head. "It's no secret that your man has deep ties with the Russian Mafia. Everyone knows it, no one can prove it. Every time I think I have a source willing to go on record, someone else beats me to it and they disappear."

"Dead?" I raise a brow.

"Oh no, of course not, that would be too obvious." He continues to talk, and if releasing his information is something he's doing consciously or if he's just caught up in the conversation, I don't know, nor do I care - provided he keeps talking. "They stop taking my calls, miss meetings, or they reappear just to tell me to get lost.

"If I were to speculate I'd say they're either being paid off or threatened." He pulls out another cigarette and lights it, taking a deep drag. "At least, that's how they've been dealing with me for years now."

"And yet, you don't give up..." I encourage him to keep talking.

"Well... maybe I'm just more foolish than the rest." He raises his shoulders and chuckles. "I have no family for them to use as leverage. My work is all I have and my reputation is not for sale."

"Let me help you, then," I say with conviction. "Give me your contacts, your sources, and I can work from there."

His laugh gets louder. "And what makes you think they're going to talk with you when they refuse to talk to me?"

"I'm not a journalist, I won't ask them to go on record," I answer point blank. "And I can be very persuasive."

He stares at me silently, constantly sucking his cigarette, thoughtfully analyzing my proposition.

"I'd also like a list of the people and/or corporations he has worked with," I push, noticing his barriers falling. "Anything you have on him."

"Mr. Baczkowski is usually used as a front man for the Russians. A relatively clean name, at least on paper, with a Polish passport," he reveals. "Mostly he's connected with companies established by Russians in Crimea after its _liberation_ ," he quotes with his fingers, "from the Ukrainian subjugation in 2014."

I rest my chin on the palm of my hand, my elbow on the table and I glance around to see that no one seems to be paying us much attention in the mostly empty coffeehouse. The early morning rush has come and gone and the few patrons who remain are men, retired probably, who have the time to spend a couple of hours reading the paper while they drink their coffee. Then I look back at the journalist in front of me, who's watching me with a slight frown in his brow. I think about what he said, about how this story is important enough for him to gamble his life and I decide that he's most likely the only trustworthy person I'll meet on my trip.

"Lets say, hypothetically, Mr. Baczkowski has approached someone else, saying he's interested in building a business relationship," I start and his eyes gleam again with curiosity.

"Is this person American!" He asks, grinning widely.

"An American based company, yes," I answer and his smile only grows. "But he would be acting in someone else's behalf, correct?"

"Unless he's trying to branch out on his own, which I sincerely doubt," he says.

"Any way to know who would he be representing?"

"Take a guess!" The journalist says. "Mr. Baczkowski has been representing a number of companies, with different and sometimes conflicting interests - oil, natural gas, guns, diamonds, even wheat and barley - but they're always connected, one way or another. The Russian oligarchs keep access to big industries air tight, the priority is to maintain the monopoly."

"I'm really gonna need that list, Mr. Karasek" I say, not in a demanding voice, but determined nonetheless.

"Very well," he cracks with a deep breath. "But let me tell you something: when you do business with Mariusz, you know who he's really representing."

"Unless he's the one who made the first contact," I point out, "which happens to be the case."

"I guess..." He looks doubtful. "Whoever you're working for seems to be uncomfortable enough to send you looking for answers." He gets up and pulls the coat over his shoulders. "I keep everything I have on him in a safe deposit box at the Bank Gospodarstwa. Hard copy only, nothing on computers where it could get easily accessed."

I get up as well, understanding that the conversation is over. "I'll keep it that way," I assure him.

"Meet me outside the bank at 3:00. It's three blocks east of the paper, easy to find." He says when we're already outside. "I'll give it to you and I hope you have better luck than me."

"So do I," I tell him.

He doesn't say goodbye, merely walks down the street in the same direction we came from.

I walk in the same direction, albeit in a much slower pace and take the opportunity to get familiar with the area. The streets are large, pedestrian and traffic movement is what one would expect in the middle of the morning in a downtown of a big city. The area is mostly comprised of commerce in the ground levels of office buildings, with very few used for residence. I enter a an open storefront and without much trouble, purchase a cheap prepaid phone with cash. With the plastic bag in hand I continue on in search of the bank. It's not necessarily as easily as promised, but eventually the massive stone building comes into sight with its big golden letters. On the large sidewalk out front, a few men in suits talk amongst themselves, but aside from that, everything is mostly quiet, the new snow deterring people from going outside unless they absolutely have to.

I return to the hotel and unbox the phone, dialing the number Mrs. S gave me on our last encounter as a way to contact her during my stay in Poland.

"Any news?" She says immediately after answering the phone.

"Funny you should put it that way," I say, smiling at the sound of her voice. "I met with the journalist who's covering Mr. Baczkowski's activities around here."

She's silent for a while and then says. "I don't like journalists, Cosima."

"I know, but this will pay off," I assure her. "I'm meeting him again this afternoon and he's gonna give me everything he has."

"And what will you give him in return?" She doesn't sound pleased.

I hesitate. "I promised him a story."

"Cosima..." She warns.

"I know, I know..." I try to calm her. "But it was the only way to get him to talk. Besides, it's not like I said anything that could compromise us."

"You know he'll probably ask for more before he actually gives you anything," Mr. S says and it's like I can see the crease in her brows, silently scolding me.

I breath out and let myself fall back on the couch behind me. "If necessary I'll throw the Websters under the bus. Nothing will fall on us," I say. "But this is a priority. He's already told me some very interesting things and if his information pans out, I think I'll be able to find out even more." I don't go into specifics, knowing she wouldn't want me to over the phone.

"Alright then. Do what you think it's best. I'm trusting your judgement on this, Cosima. Be sure not to push too hard." She concedes. "And the priority is your safety, okay?"

I smile again. "Yeah, don't worry. I have this under control."

"Good, good..." she says. "Anything else?"

"Daniel Webster called as soon as I landed yesterday," I answer casually.

"What did he want?"

"Just to keep tabs, I'm sure," I reply after a brief moment of hesitation that I hope it has gone unnoticed.

This is followed by a long silence - too long, even for her. "Okay," she eventually says. "Let me know how the meeting with the journalist goes. I'll be waiting for your contact later today."

The line goes dead right after that and I stare at the inactive phone, wondering if Sarah or, more likely, Felix has found a way to contact S and tell her about what happened the other night. Regardless and even if she does know, she won't say anything about it while I'm here. Not only because she believes it will be an unnecessary distraction, but also because, at least while I'm here, Delphine does not represent a problem. By now, I'm sure I'll have an earful when I get back, but there's no point in worrying about it now and maybe I'll get lucky - maybe I'll find something so juicy that all of the Delphine nonsense will be forgotten.

I have lunch at the hotel and then take a cab, having the driver drop me a block away from the bank. I take my time arriving, and wait on the other side of the street, my eyes going from the main door to my watch constantly. I'm still 20 minutes early and have yet to see Karasek enter or leave the building, but wonder if he will show up at all. I should've asked his number, I think and decide that, if he doesn't appear in the next ten minutes, I'll look for him at the paper.

However, none of that is necessary. Four minutes after three, he emerges, holding a briefcase close to his chest and approaches the curb, waiting at the crosswalk for the sign to turn green for pedestrians. Halfway across the street, he spots me, smiles and gives me a head nod, continuing in my direction. I straighten my back, but make no move to go at his encounter.

The sound echoes off the tall buildings of the large street, loud and sudden and the few people outside are running around, looking for cover. Some, in their hurry, slip on the ice and fall to the ground with a scream and that only adds to the chaos and hysteria. Cars speed away, tires skid in the wet pavement with a loud screech. Amidst all this, my eyes look for the journalist, sprawled in the middle of the crossing, face down, a river of blood emerging from what is left of his head, the gray mane painted red.

Sirens scream in the distance, getting gradually closer and I'm frozen in place, unable to take my eyes away from the lifeless body completely ignored by everyone else. Only after a motorcycle roars down street and stop in front of me, blocking my view of the dead man, do I shift my gaze to the biker. Leather jacket and gloves, cargo pants and heavy boots, all in black as well as the full-faced helmet.

"We need to get out of here!" The person says in a voice muffled by the headgear.

I blink a few times. "What?!"

"Cosima, let's go!" It's the accented way she says my name with urgency that makes me realize who it is.

"Delphine?!" I ask, my confusion only seems to grow.

She tries to pull me by the arm but I free myself with a strong tug. In a moment of surprising clarity, I run to the abandoned body and grab his briefcase, my eyes avoiding his shattered features. The emergency lights are flashing down the street, red and blue announcing their proximity. I sprint back to Delphine and, with no time to hesitate or ask questions, I loop a leg over the seat of the big bike, tuck the briefcase between her back and my chest and wrap my arms around her waist.

Hardly a five seconds pass when Delphine twists the throttle and has us speeding away from the approaching cars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: SPOILERS FOR 5.08
> 
> I wrote this chapter before the episode and was really not expecting Mrs. S fate on the show, she'll be missed. However, I intent to continue to pay homage to Siobhan "Badass" Sadler in this weird fic.


	25. A Stroll in the Countryside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So... no more OB... Well, at least this Saturday, and for those who like it, you'll have a new chapter to read. Get that Cophine fix!  
> Thanks to Cophine, my beta, for the amazing work!

The frigid wind whips at my face as Delphine drives us at a moderate speed along the the slow traffic. Soon, my cheeks start to feel numb with the cold and I have no other option but to hide my head behind Delphine's back, unable to see the road ahead of us. Occasionally glancing to the side, I notice she's taken us out of the city and into the countryside, using secondary roads that are barely cleared of snow, keeping the motorcycle in the tire tracks left behind by other vehicles. Despite the speed and the slippery road, she carefully maintains the bike's stability, not once skidding or losing an inch of control. She's a skilled driver, that much is obvious.

What isn't obvious, is what the hell is she's doing in Poland. How did she know where I was and how was it possible for her to get to me so quickly after the shooting?

I'm still trying to recover from what I'd witnessed, my mind unable to process the latest events. It all seems like a dream, something that really hasn't happened and a result of my active imagination. One moment Oskar was there, smiling naturally as he approached me, and the next he was laying on the wet pavement, in the middle of the street. Dead. No one dared approach his body, it all seemed so... cold, detached. Even Delphine showing up, out of nowhere, seems unbelievable. I feel her body against mine, my arms tightly around her strong torso. She breathes calmly, and I can feel the slow movement of her chest, smell her perfume when I press my nose to her jacket, but it doesn't feel real somehow. Maybe I'm just a little shellshocked.

Minutes bleed into each other, I have no notion of time, but eventually we slow down, taking a left turn onto a dirt road, now covered in deep snow in the middle of nowhere. Finally able to take in the view without the punishing wind, I move my head, pressing myself closer to her so I can peek over her shoulder. I hear nothing but the loud roar of the powerful motor, rolling slowly over the snow. It looks like any other countryside, a few trees stripped naked by the winter appear here and there on the flat, barren ground and the narrow road seems to stretch out for miles with no end in sight.

A small dot appears on the horizon and, as we get closer, it becomes a small house, more like a shack with a little porch, really, a decrepit wooden fence surrounds it. I would think it was abandoned if it wasn't for the small white car parked beside the house, under a poorly constructed rusted aluminum roof.

We stop in front of the low gate and Delphine dismounts. I do the same, standing there, the briefcase hanging limply in my hand, watching her open the gate with only a push and guide the motorcycle by the handles until it's next to the car. Next, she moves toward the door and only stops to see if I follow. I hesitate briefly, but eventually walk to her, closing the gate behind me. Satisfied, Delphine opens the door and steps inside.

Outside appearances are deceiving. The house is small, but fully equipped with dark wooden furniture from what I can see when I go in. The space is well used, a table with two chairs is placed against one of the walls, under the only window, and a large couch is placed in the middle of the room. The fireplace is out but seems to have been used recently, and a flat screen tv is mounted above it. One side of the space had been converted into a kitchen with a long counter and cupboard, fridge, stove, oven and even a microwave take up most of the area. On the other end there's a generously sized bed, a bedside table, a closet and a vanity with a laptop on top of it. The bathroom door is partially open and occupies a big chunk of the area next to the bed. It's a comfortable and we'll thought out space, even if a little dark and cold.

"I'm just gonna assume this is your vacation home," I comment when my eyes find Delphine, crouched in front of the fireplace, presumably to get it started.

"You can assume whatever you want," she replies, getting to her feet, a small flame already glowing. "The house should be warm soon."

She had taken off her helmet and placed it on the table, and was now removing her leather jacket, revealing a loose, gray turtleneck sweater underneath. Dropping the jacket casually on the bed, she strolled crossed the space to the computer.

"Does that mean you're not gonna tell me what the hell is going on?" I ask, approaching to her, shedding my own coat and beanie in the process.

On the screen I can see the front of the house. Clouds moving rapidly across the sky, and the clock on the bottom of the screen are the only indication that this is not live footage.

"Security camera?" I inquire with a raised brow.

She nods, her eyes on the screen until I see in reverse a blonde figure getting out and putting on a black helmet, riding away in the same motorcycle which has brought us here at 10:33, according to the clock on display.

Satisfied that there has been no activity while she was out, Delphine closes the laptop and sits on the bed, unlacing her big boots.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, knowing that if I don't, she won't volunteer any information.

"The same thing you are, I assume," she says in a careless tone, dropping one of the heavy boots on the carpeted floor.

"Did your fiancé asked you to come here and look for information on a possible business partner?" I ask drolly.

"Okay... So maybe not exactly the same." She drops the other boot with a groan, losing the thick wool socks and standing up.

"He called me, you know?" I continue to see if I can get any reaction out of her before frustration fully sets in.

"If you're here at his request, that's to be expected." She continues in a calm voice, walking to the kitchen area and filling a pot with water. "He's not the most trusting person."

"Actually, he wanted to thank me for looking after you the other night." At this, her movements stop for a brief second, before she turns on the stove, but says nothing.

"What were you thinking? Telling him something like that?"

Finally she turns to face me with a closed expression. "I was thinking that someone might've seen us leaving the house right after each other," she says quickly in a stern voice. "I was thinking how that fucking house has cameras all over the place and I should provide a good justification for us leaving before it came to his knowledge by other sources. So, yes, I told him I wasn't feeling well and you came out to help me."

My muscles lock in place, my entire body becomes tense. "You think he could see us..."

"No!" Delphine interrupts me and she spins back around, opening a cupboard door and taking out two mugs before I can get a glimpse of her reaction. "We were in a blind spot, I made sure of that."

"You know the placing of the cameras." It's an affirmation, a fact that only now dawns on me. "What... Who are you?"

Delphine doesn't answer, she doesn't even look at me to acknowledge my question. Instead she continues to prepare the tea, leaving one of the mugs on the small table. She crosses to the fireplace, placing her cup on its narrow lip and pokes the fire. I remain standing in the middle of the small room, watching her take a seat on the couch and turn on the TV to an English news channel.

I shouldn't be surprised that what happened in Warsaw is making headlines. Yet, it's with astonishment that I hear the news anchor going on and on about the shocking death of the journalist in the middle of the day in the large and peaceful European capital.

"Oh... this is not good," I think aloud, moving to get the cup of tea from the table and sitting next to Delphine.

"The traffic cameras would've caught you," Delphine says with her eyes on the TV. "Perhaps the cameras in front of the Bank too."

"Shit! Fucking big brother everywhere!" I let out, throwing my head back and closing my eyes. "I'm so fucked!"

"We don't know if it's possible to identify you," she offers in an almost comforting way. "The images captured by traffic cameras are very low quality and you never got that close to the Bank. But going back for the briefcase was not the best idea."

"Shit!" I repeat with even more conviction and turn around to look at the briefcase abandoned on the bed.

"I hope whatever you find in there was worth it," Delphine says, bringing the mug to her lips.

I take a deep breath and look at her. Calm and undisturbed, she doesn't seem to be very concerned about it. Since she picked me up this afternoon, Delphine has been the definition of control and composure, nothing seems to bother her one way or another. With her emotions well under wraps, she seems to know exactly what she's doing. Mrs. S would love to have her on our team.

What she won't like is to have another of us involved in another high profile death. After what happened in Sarah's failed mission, she will be fuming about this. Fortunately, it seems like the mainstream media still hasn't picked up the connection with the other shooting, but it's only a matter of time before they put two and two together. Even if the connection is vague, they'll soon start to wonder why, in such a small period of time, two people were gunned down by a sniper in the same city.

I, on the other hand, am already making the connection. It's too many coincidences to ignore and I wonder if the shooter is the same and what exactly is this person's agenda. By all appearances the two men are on opposite sides of the barricade: if Sarah's target was in any way involved in all this, he would be one of the Russians Oskar was investigating. And maybe there's where the connection lays, maybe someone is just covering their tracks.

I look back again to the briefcase and, placing the mug on the armrest of the couch, get up and get it. Delphine watches me in silence as I sit back and snap it open and remove from inside a spiral notebook and several sheets of paper that look like document copies.

"You know Polish?" Delphine seems impressed when she asks.

I give her a weak smile. "Nope. You?"

"A little," she tells me. "Not nearly enough to be of any real help."

"And who says I want your help?" I challenge childishly, regretting the words the moment I spoke them.

She chuckles, that light, soft laugh of hers that always had the ability to disarm me. "It didn't seem to bother you much when I was dragging your nice, little ass out of a crime scene."

"Hey, thanks!" I smirk at her and she rolls her eyes but continues to laugh. "In fact, I just need to see if a few names show up in here," I tap a finger on the papers resting on my lap, "at least, for now."

"I could give it a look, but you don't want my help." She narrows her eyes at me, the offhand banter present in her voice.

Delphine returns to her tea and I lose sight of her golden eyes, back on the TV screen and she leans lazily against the couch, extending her feet closer to the fireplace. She looks relaxed, her breathing evenly as she brings the mug to her lips for a long, last drink and gets up, taking my almost empty mug with her to wash in the kitchen sink.

She moves with ease, her bare feet on the now warm, wooden floor carry her with that innate grace that has captured my attention the moment I met her all those years ago. My eyes don't leave her, even as her back is turned to me and I take in her presence: serene, calm. The cargo pants sit low on her waist and even the loose wardrobe can't hide her sumptuous curves, the sinful shape of her body, as she moves around, rinsing the mugs and placing them on the side of the sink to dry.

"What are you looking at?" Her voice is low and carries a heaviness that sinks deep into my gut.

I swallow hard, surprised at being caught in my gawking even when she hasn't look at me. "You know... I would be much more inclined to trust you if I knew who you were," I say thickly, my eyes going immediately to hers the moment she turns around.

"I know," she nods and takes the few steps that bring her to the fireplace, leaning against its side and staring straight at me. "But if I'd wanted something bad to happen to you, do you think I would've taken you away from that mess and brought you here?"

I sigh deeply and lean my head back again. "What are you doing here, anyway?" I ask in a low, tired voice.

"Making sure nothing went wrong." She finally gives me an answer, however vague.

"Didn't exactly work out well, did it?" I say, opening my eyes and staring back at her.

"Nothing I can do against a sniper bullet." Delphine shrugs. "And a very good one at that. Whoever has gone for him, knew exactly what they were doing."

I chuckle humorously. "Funny, I think precisely the same thing about you."

Delphine twists her lips and frowns. "I'm not killing people!" She claims and the annoyance is obvious in her voice.

"I don't know that!" I say loudly, my frustration finally reaching its peak. "I don't know what the fuck you do! What the hell you're doing here! Showing up like a fucking superhero at exactly the right moment to take me away! All I know is that there's no way you're a fucking suburban housewife getting ready to marry some rich fuck!"

"You can't blame me for your wrong assumptions!" She strikes back, emotions finally painting her expression.

"Then what the fuck am I supposed to assume, huh?" I push, my hands slice the air as I stand up. "Last time I saw you, you were breaking my fucking heart, acting like what happened between us meant nothing to you other than a fucking experiment," I lash out. "Next thing I know, years have gone by and you're engaged to a guy that's sketchy at best."

She starts to pace, running her hands through the waves of her hair and laughing without humor. "So that's what this is about?" She replies, voice raising as she struggles to control her emotions. "Because I left you when we were kids?"

"We were  _not_ kids! What the fuck, Delphine?! Can't you admit that what you did was wrong and stop dismissing it?" I state with determination. "And no, this is not about that, this is about you leaving me completely in the dark about what is going on."

"Then why did you bring it up?" She counters, meeting my eyes with a challenging stare.

I stop suddenly, my brain knotting in confusion. Why did I bring it up? So stupid, caving into my emotions and calling her on a subject that's in no way related to our current predicament. Am I so emotional that I can't discuss something with her without bringing up old scars that never healed? Is it just the absence of closure? Just because I feel like we left our relationship unfinished? She doesn't seem to have this problem. For Delphine, the past is in the past and there's no reason for it to resurface and poke around in ancient history. And the more I realize this, the more it upsets me. She moved on - if she was ever stuck at all - and I wasn't allowed that privilege; she took it from me when she made all the decisions.

"I need to get back to my hotel," I whisper, turning my back on her and starting to put everything back in the briefcase.

"That's it?!" She asks, taken aback. "You're going to leave it like that?"

"Annoying, isn't it?" I say with defiance, a ghost of a smile prickling the corner of my lip, feeling a perverse pleasure at leaving her wanting an answer. "Not as fun when you're on the receiving end, right?"

"Pay back? Really?" She says, baffled.

"Restitution," I correct her, pulling the coat over my shoulders. "For past deeds."

"I didn't peg you for the revenge type," she comments, strangely stepping back and leaning her lower back on the dining table.

"Yeah? Well… too fucking bad!" I boldly respond, taking the briefcase and heading towards the door.

I'm reaching for the knob and, ridiculously, it's only now that hits me: storming out of the house is impossible when I'm in the middle of nowhere and Delphine's the only ride out of this place. So, I turn to face her and am confronted with an amused smile, a brow tilted up. She can read my thoughts, understand my situation, but doesn't take a single step in my direction, only crosses her arms over her chest to make it clear she has no intention to leave.

"Are you kidding me?!" I ask, not finding a hint of humor in all this.

"Ask nicely!" She smirks pretentiously, but then her features soften and her stance becomes less confrontational. "I'll take you after sundown. It's not a good idea for you to venture into the city just yet."

"You mean I'm stuck here with you until dark," I say still annoyed, but feeling my irritation melt fast; she's making a very valid point.

"There are worse places to be… and a lot worse company to keep." She finishes with a wink, her smile stretching wider.

I roll my eyes, taking off my coat and dropping it on the couch, next to the briefcase. "I liked you better when you were pretending to be clueless."

Delphine smirks. "Liar!"


	26. Collision

"Are you really not going to talk to me?" Delphine asks, exasperation just at the edge of her voice.

She's back on the couch, the computer in her lap as she's doing god knows what. She has tried to continue our previous conversation, but for several minutes now, the only sounds in the house are the tapping of her fingertips on the laptop keyboard, the crackling of the firewood burning slowly and warming the small house, and the rustling of paper as I turn yet another page on Oskar's notebook.

I moved myself to the table, using the sparse light coming through the window to try to decipher at least some of the dead journalist's terrible handwriting. I roam over the sheets, searching for names that would capture my attention, but the foreign language and his penmanship makes the task almost impossible.

Another sheet is turned and I hear Delphine sigh deeply, but my determination to give her the cold shoulder doesn't waver, in fact, only grows. Who would've thought that as someone who's so adept in keeping her thoughts to herself, Delphine could be so appalled by receiving the same treatment.

"They've blocked the roads that go in and out of Warsaw," Delphine informs me despite my silence. "The Police are on high alert, and they've activated the terrorist response in the city."

"Everything is terrorism nowadays," I eventually comment, but don't look at her, my eyes remain on the papers in front of me.

"They still haven't released any description of the suspect," she continues. "Which means that, at least, they're probably not looking for you… yet."

"Why do you say  _yet_?" I inquire, finally staring at her and noticing that her eyes are on the screen as she talks.

"Well… You met with him earlier, right?" Delphine says, stretching an arm over the headrest of the couch and facing me more directly. "Someone would've seen both of you together."

I press my lips and nod slowly. "I met him this morning at the paper," I say and it feels weird to think that it was only a few hours ago. "At least the receptionist there had a good look at me. And we also went to small coffeehouse not far from it."

"Did you give them your name?" She asks and seems genuinely concerned.

"Of course not!" I'm actually more than a little offended that she would think that. "Do you think I'm a fucking amateur?"

"I don't know." She shrugs. "You gave your real name at the hotel."

"And how do you know that?" I stare sternly at her, but she gives me no answer and remains impervious. "Right!" I breathe out. "Anyway, I had to give them my real name because your fiancé is tracking my every move." I don't offer that the only reason Daniel himself knows my real name is because Delphine is circulating in his orbit.

"You also didn't have to meet him in person," she insists. "You could've called and schedule a meeting in a more secluded location."

"Hey! I didn't know he was gonna get killed by the end of the day, did I?" I defend myself. "Besides, you didn't meet him; there was no way he would've given me a single thing if I hadn't meet him face-to-face."

"I didn't mean to question your methods," she raises her hands in a sign of concession.

"Yes, you did!" I disagree. "This might be hard for you to fathom, but I actually know what I'm doing."

"Do you?" Delphine shows me a hint of a smile. "How is the search for those names going?"

"Oh, shut up!" I reply annoyed, hating that she can see right through my boasting.

"What I mean, is that you're not exactly an easy face to forget," she explains in a much softer tone. "And it's not that difficult to give an accurate description of the way you look." She finishes pulling one of her locks of hair and looking at my dreadlocks.

Self-consciously I pass my hand through my head, squeezing the bun of dreads sitting on top of it. "Oh…" I whisper.

"I'm monitoring the international police channels - all active thanks to the terror alert," Delphine tells me, getting up from the couch and going to the fridge. "If your description comes up, I'll let you know." She produces a few eggs and vegetables out of it, setting them carefully on the countertop.

"Great!" I say bitterly. "I would ask you how you have access to that, but I suspect you wouldn't answer me anyway."

Delphine takes a deep breath and turns around to look at me with a slightly saddened expression. "Would you prefer I lied to you?" She asks. "Because that would be my answer: lies. I rather tell you nothing at all."

"Then how am I supposed to trust you, Delphine?" I raise my brow, surprised by her sudden honesty.

"Maybe you shouldn't," she responds in a flat tone, spinning around and cracking the eggs into a bowl. "Maybe you shouldn't trust anyone in that house."

"I don't!" I deadpan and get up, abandoning the monotonous task for now. "Are you gonna feed me?" I ask, looking at the bowl where she's whisking the eggs.

She turns her face to look me in the eyes and gives me a open smile. "I might," she jokes. "Get a knife for the drawer over there and slice some onions."

"Sure… Give me the unpleasant task, why don't you?" I complain, but do what she tells me.

It all feels incredibly domestic. We're not preparing anything fancy, just an omelette garnished with whatever we can find. The night falls outside as we turn on the lights and take the food to the table. Now and then, Delphine gets up, constantly checking to see if there are any more news about the search for Oskar's killer and every time she sits back in front of me, telling me the new developments, but always assuring me that nothing indicates I might be in deeper trouble.

"You think it's safe for me to return to my hotel?" I ask when we're clearing the table, taking my dish and glass to the kitchen sink.

"Roads are no longer blocked, but the police are still on high alert," she answers, turning on the tap. "I'd prefer you didn't go just yet, but, if you want, I'll take you. The car has Polish plates and it's not likely to attract attention."

I shake my head, leaning my lower back against the counter and watch her work.

"I can't stay the night," I say and it surprises me how disappointed that makes me feel.

"I understand," Delphine offers mechanically, her movements never stopping.

Her emotionless response strikes something inside me, although, by now, it shouldn't surprise me how detached she can sound. And it annoys me that the only reason I want to leave is my need to report back to Mrs. S about the developments and tell her that I'm alright, because she's probably worried sick with my radio silence. I left the cheap cellphone in my hotel room, charging on top of the nightstand. I'm perfectly aware that if it wasn't for this little issue, I wouldn't want to leave Delphine's company, no matter how cold she can be at times.

In this aspect nothing seems to have changed; I still irrationality crave her presence in my life. The calmness she exudes is, at the same time, the most captivating and infuriating trait of hers, capable of easing my mind and causing unexpected fury within me. Delphine doesn't even have to do much, just be there, like she is now, casually moving around, restoring order to the kitchen. I continue to observe her as she walks to the vanity and opens a drawer, turning around with a cigarette and a lighter in hand and a small smile on her lips.

"You don't happen to have any pot in there by any chance, do you?" I smirk and watch her putting on a long coat that she takes from the closet and warm slippers.

"Afraid not," Delphine chuckles. "But you're welcome to join me, if you want."

"I'll pass on the cancer stick, but I'll take the company," I reply, getting my own coat and catching up to her by the door.

I follow her outside, shiver a little and button my coat, as Delphine carefully closes the door so it doesn't lock and sits on the porch's narrow step and lights the cigarette.

"Why do you want to get back so bad anyway?" Delphine asks, blowing the smoke away from me before she turns her head my way when I sit next to her. "Wouldn't it be better for you to wait it out for a little while?"

I hesitate for a split second, consider using a play from her own book and leave her without an answer, since I obviously can't give her an honest one. But it appears to be against my nature, so, instead, I deflect in the worst possible way. "Do you want me to stay that bad?"

It's not meant to be a real question, but I don't think it's much of a joke either, especially when the tone of my voice is all wrong. I wanted to sound playful, nonchalant, not quite as serious as it became halfway through the sentence.

Delphine notices the waver of my voice, the absence of smile on my lips and narrows her eyes at me. "I want you to be safe," she says, not addressing my misstep, "and I think this is the perfect place for that."

I chuckle dryly, perhaps even somewhat bitterly. "How do you do that?"

Delphine's arm stops midair, bringing the cigarette to her lips and frowns in confusion. "Do what?"

"This!" I aim a hand at her, as if her expression is all it takes to understand it, my voice sounding too loud amidst the quietness of the night. "Be so… cool, undisturbed, emotionless, like you don't give a shit about anything!"

Delphine says nothing, she just crushes what's left of the cigarette on the side of the step and gets up. I'm speechless, stunned by the abruptness of her reaction, but soon I recover and walk inside as well, carried by a fury that's been brewing for too long.

"You're doing it again!" I accuse the moment I step inside, my eyes going immediately to Delphine, who's throwing the cigarette in the bin. "Do you have any idea how frustrating that is?!"

Delphine is clearly startled by my sudden outburst. Eyes wide, staring at me, the corner of her lower lip being nagged by her teeth. However, the deafening silence remains, her fists curled tightly next to her body, as if holding on to a stubbornness she refuses to release.

I shake my head, disappointment flares in me with an intensity that hurts. "I want you to take me back! Now!" I state with determination, finding strength to put in my voice from unknown places inside myself.

Before my brain has time to process what's happening, Delphine is on me. Her body smashes into mine with enough force to make me lose my balance briefly, the door behind me the only thing that keeps me from falling. Her lips are on mine, hurried and determined, muffling my surprised gasp. Her hands search my sides for something to grasp, her fingers sinking with such strength that I feel them curve over the thick fabric of my coat, but it only lasts a moment. Quickly, she steps back and before my heart has time to mourn the loss of her touch, deft hands are tugging at my coat and tossing it to the wooden floor. I struggle to catch up to her frenetic pace, my lips possessed again, and my fingers fumble with the buttons of her jacket until she comes to my aid, pulling away from me just enough to take it off herself.

Despite the struggle of my movements and the surprise, my body doesn't seem to be suffering from these problems. It searches for hers, it wants her near, craving every demanding touch, every bruising kiss. My leg raises to wrap around her thigh and as soon as it's within her reach, Delphine's hand grabs it and pulls it closer to her, pushing herself tighter against me.

I welcome her aggression, and encourage her by tangling both hands in golden curls to pull her to me. I nip her lower lip with my teeth before receiving Delphine's tongue in my mouth, the strong muscle sweeping against mine. Her right hand moves from my hip to the buckle of my belt and urgently releases it, the button and zipper of my pants follow close behind and she doesn't pause until her hand slips inside, her movements precise, the destination clear.

"Fuck!" I hiss when Delphine's fingers makes contact with my sex, pulling my mouth away from hers for a much needed breath.

Delphine moans softly, but doesn't stop. Her teeth graze the skin of my neck as the hand between my legs presses closer and slides down, causing a shiver to go down my spine. She senses it. I feel her chuckle against my skin and when she raises her eyes to mine, in the glowing pools of amber and green I see an unexpected hint of amusement. She rests her forehead against mine and wets her lips, her darkening stare pinned on me with an increasing predatory gaze.

"Maybe you should stay just a little bit longer," she proposes in a thick, low voice.

I smirk, one of my hands finds the hem of her shirt and slips underneath it. "Yeah, maybe you're right," I agree, my hand moving up over smooth but cold skin.

"Of course I am," Delphine retorts as her body presses against mine when I take a breast into the palm of my hand.

I hum, not bothering to call her on the smugness as my hips buck in search of a more satisfying contact. The corner of Delphine's lips curls up, but she concedes to my unspoken wish, and her fingers run over my heated flesh and I'm certain she can feel my enthusiasm through the fabric of my underwear. My body tenses with the stimulation, and my leg, still wrapped around hers, pulls her, the hand on her breast squeezes more firmly. She kisses me again, more deliberately this time. Soft, skillful lips move gently over mine, beckoning me to her and I, like a vessel lost in the dark of night, follow her, eagerly.

Her hand leaves my leg to softly cradle my neck, the pads of her fingers tenderly smooth over my cheek, but the digits of Delphine's other hand wreak havoc between my legs, subtly slipping under my panties to press against me. My hips press forward, answering her call and it feels like I'm melting against her touch. My body becomes loose, rippling at the rhythm of her movements, supported by the door at my back and the firm shape of Delphine's form slowly moving against me. Even the hand on the mound of her breast relaxes, pulling her bra up and finding an excited nipple that I roll under my thumb.

Our movements remain slow for a while, and, despite my desire to move this forward, I let her take control. I wonder if it's remnants of our past; if, unlike with previous partners, I allow her guidance because that's how it started, and fear that she'll retreat if I take the power away from her. And it's not like she doesn't know what she's doing, quite the opposite: Delphine's gestures are indicative that this is not new territory for her. It's obvious she's previously known women as lovers, she knows where and how to touch in order to play me like a fiddle. But there's something there, something that frighteningly resembles resentment, especially when it enters my mind that she has given others what she has denied me.

These are the thoughts inundating my mind when I unconsciously make the decision to take matters into my own hands. Breaking the slow pace, I find the bottom of her blouse and Delphine barely has time to pull out from my pants to raise her arms for me. Her bra falls from her shoulders quickly and I attach myself to her, my arms around her neck and tug her to my lips.

Even so, all this feels somewhat consented by her; Delphine surrendering control willingly, until she decides she won't. She grabs me by the back of my thighs and pulls me up, effortlessly carries me the short distance to the bed and, unceremoniously lets me fall.

Delphine's gaze doesn't leave me and there's a pleased smirk on her lips while she raises my left leg and flips a boot off of my foot, doing the exact same thing to the other. Her smile stretches wider when she moves up the bed, her eyes gleaming dangerously as she crawls over me until we're face-to-face and lowers her head to give me an incredibly soft kiss.

"I know what you're thinking," she whispers against my lips.

"Do you now?" I raise a brow, surprised by her words.

"Don't do that, Cosima." She sounds almost pleading. "Don't drag the past into this."

I feel a small sparkle of anger ignite in my chest. "Easy for you to say, you're not the one who…"

Delphine's lips silence me, lightly moving against mine, delicately wrapping around the plump flesh and tugging as her hand slips under my shirt and she palms my breast. "Do you really want to get into that now?" She asks in the most alluring voice.

I can't help but chuckle. "What a dirty trick," I complain half-heartedly, my body already responding to her touch.

"I know," Delphine's concedes, the smirk returns. "Is it working?" I feel her smile against the skin of my neck that she's peppering with kisses.

She doesn't wait for my answer, already knowing that it's physically impossible for me to deny her advances. She lifts my shirt, soft lips grazing slowly along my torso, and the heat from earlier and that never fully extinguished returns with more intensity. My eagerness betrays me, and my hands go to her head, encouraging her exploration while my body moves beneath her, completely surrendered to her attention.

Delphine straightens her back, moving out of my reach and bites her lower lip as she tugs my shirt away and takes the opportunity while my back is off the mattress to unclasp my bra. A hand on my shoulder pushes me down and her glowing eyes leave mine, going to my chest where the tip of her cool finger starts to create a pattern and she smiles to herself. I close my eyes, concentrating on the digit roaming my skin, trying to discern if there's any logic to her design and when I think I'm starting to make sense of it, my mind loses focus; the single finger is joined by others and is confidently slipping under the fabric of my underwear.

I gasp when they reach their destination and that's when Delphine's eyes return to mine, the most delicious smile on her pink lips. My hands go up, curled around her neck while my thumbs keep the locks from falling over her features when I pull her down. She lets me guide her, brushing her nose against mine softly before our mouths meet. The kiss remains fairly innocent for a few seconds, but the fingers between my legs are starting to move with a clearer intention. Still lightly, still slowly, but she manages to do everything right, even in the confined space she has to work. Gradually she works me to a moaning mess, the wetness between my legs increases with every skillful touch of the very tip of her fingers against the side of my clit. Her tongue enters my mouth, sweeping over mine in a delicate stroke and my mind reels, my body growing restless with her teasing. Suddenly I feel a frustrated groan against my lips and she pulls back.

The surprise fades quickly, as she sits up and I smile, observing her tug my slacks and panties down my legs. In a moment I'm catching up to her, raising myself and unbuttoning her cargo pants and start to pull before Delphine herself tugs them the rest of the way down and covers me with her body, wiggling herself between my legs and her right hand returns to where it belongs, while the left pulls my leg to wrap around her waist, putting me at her mercy.

"Better?" I ask in a teasing voice when her lips meet mine, my hands going back to her face.

Delphine narrows her eyes at me and smirks. "Much," she states thickly, two fingers sink into me without warning.

I moan deeply, my hips rising to receive her, and my left hand moves to grip her waist tightly, fingernails tightening on the voluptuous curve of her shape.

Delphine is not gentle with her thrusts. She presses into me at slow, deliberate pace, but puts her waist into it, reaching deep inside, and I can feel her fingers curving on their way out before she pushes them in again. My breath catches with every thrust, the hand on her hip clutches at the rhythm of her movements, until I suddenly grab her ass, hooking my thumb in the band of her panties and pulling them, when she finds what she was clearly looking for. In that moment she stops, only her fingers brush ever-so-slightly against the right spot and she pulls her head back to show me a tilted brow and a self-satisfied smirk.

I'm expecting her to take full advantage of her new discovery and brace myself for it. However, I'm surprised to receive a soft kiss against my lips, her mouth moves lower to my neck, always tender, but her fingers remain there, slowly tormenting me, stimulating just enough to cause a never ending hot shiver running down my spine.

"Delphine…" I moan her name, complaining about her strategy, but only getting a low hum in response from her lips currently wrapping around my nipple.

She grazes her teeth over it, her tongue swirls around the excited nub and I close my fist around her curls when the palm of her hand surges forward to press against my clit, the fingers inside me gaining momentum. Gradually, Delphine starts to move faster. Her thrusts become steadier, her body sliding against mine, and this time she doesn't stop. Instead she rises to her knees, and her left hand braces to hold me down when I make a move to follow her. When I don't comply, Delphine pins me to the bed, holding my wrist against the mattress, next to my head and hovers over me.

"Don't fight me on this, Cosima," she advises in a heavy whisper. Her once bright eyes darkened, keeping me down as much as the hand holding me, the fingers slotting themselves in the empty space between mine.

And to solidify her statement she pushes against me in a fast and firm thrust. I close the hand she's holding around hers, fingers grabbing on tightly, while the other curls around her waist and I pull her to me as she thrusts once again, watching her giving me a crooked smile.

Delphine ups the tempo, her waist rocks against me in a maddening pace and I take it all willingly, I yearn for it, for the next delicious curl of her fingers inside me, for the next exquisite press of her hand against my wet flesh. She groans deeply, her mouth covers mine and muffles my gasps, our joined hands closed around each other so tightly that I start to feel a hint of pain. Still, I don't want her to stop. Even as I feel my body heating up to the point of burning, even as breathing no longer comes easily, and with every thrust she pushes into me I feel like there's no coming back from this. Her mouth leaves mine to whisper something in French against my ear that I can't understand, but that I know it sounds awfully a lot like promises neither of us can keep. And yet, that's exactly what pushes me over the edge. Her fingers buried inside me, curving to roll over just the right spot, her hand covering my sex, rubbing my sensitive clit and I crumble around her, holding onto her fiercely, groaning my release into the warm air of the small house, while she continues to kiss my neck, sighing softly.

Silence returns to the house while I struggle to reconnect, only the sound of the logs burning in the fireplace cut into it. It isn't helping. I can deal with Delphine's early insatiable attention, but my mind struggles to deal with the aftermath and what it means, what awaits me after. Seemingly unaware of the turmoil in my head, Delphine's mouth is still spreading lazy kisses along my neck, breathing heavily and reaching my cheek, landing on my lips.

When I don't respond, she pushes herself up, her left hand finally releasing my right one to support herself. "You're thinking too much," she says in a low voice, brushing her nose against mine in a tender gesture that does nothing to help my situation.

"I don't know what to make of this," I admit, shaking my head slowly, feeling myself being swallowed by emotions and hating it. I don't want to ruin the moment, I wish I could push back my feelings and only allow them to resurface when I could deal with them, but I can't. If I were a more cynical person I would blame it on hormonal overload.

Delphine is quiet for a moment, her eyes are colored with an undeniable softness. "Not all is what it seems, Cosima." It's all she offers as if it was any comfort.

I'd laugh if my mood allowed me. "Like I don't know that…" I say in dark humor. "My problem is not what it seems; is what actually is that concerns me."

Her stare hardens and she pulls herself up until she's sitting on the edge of the bed. "You say that like you're not keeping things from me," Delphine says in a low, cold voice, not looking at me anymore. "I'm not the only one who's not being honest here."

With this, she opens the drawer of the nightstand and plucks a pair of black panties out of it. My eyes follow her as she stands and walks in the bathroom's direction.

"What are you doing?" I ask before she gets in.

"I'm taking you back to the city, like you asked. Get dressed!" She tells me, shutting the door behind herself.

I blink a few times, my eyes locked on the closed door before I bring a hand to my forehead. "Great job, Niehaus!" I whisper to myself.

I'm working my boots into my feet when Delphine reemerges, still in nothing but a flimsy pair of panties and I can't keep my eyes from following her. She ignores me, going to the small closet and opening its door, choosing gray wool trousers and a white dress shirt that she puts on quickly - back to the elegant style I'm growing accustomed way too quickly for my own good. The only difference this time is the small handgun she gets from the dresser drawer and the holster around her torso, which she conceals under the long coat.

"What's that for?" I ask astonished.

"I'm not taking any chances this time," she answers, buttoning her coat.

"If they wanted to kill me, they would've earlier," I say, rising to my feet and standing in front of her, preventing her from heading to the door.

She closes her eyes as she takes a deep breath. "You didn't have the briefcase earlier," she tells me, with her eyes going to the papers that I've placed on the couch when we were preparing the table to eat. "I wish you'd leave those here. Whatever is in there, it's obvious someone is willing to kill for it."

I clench my jaw and move to put everything back in the briefcase. "I know how to take care of myself!"

We exchange few words as we leave, the briefcase secure in my lap as I sit in the car, as she shakes her head in disappointment, watching me and turning the keys in the ignition. The silence in the car is tense, and Delphine barely looks at me, keeping her eyes on the dark road that the headlights of the old car barely manage to illuminate. Of all the things my mind has to focus on, ridiculously, all I can think is that I never actually managed to see her fully naked.  _Fuck my luck!_


	27. Run!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my awesome Beta!!! This story wouldn't be the same without her.

I'm not at all surprised when Delphine parks the car near the hotel entrance without being told where I'm staying, having decided during the uneventful and silent journey back into town, to simply assume she knows everything. I might be wrong a few times, but at least I won't be caught off guard as often.

I watch her. Her eyes continuously scan the large street, but if the police are still out in force, they're being incredibly subtle about it - not one officer in sight. She's waiting for me to leave and, after a sigh, I exit the car with the briefcase close to my chest. I barely have time to shut the door and she's driving away, tires screeching on the wet pavement.

I walk somewhat fast to the hotel, giving a short head nod to the doorman who opens the door for me to enter and bypass the front desk, going straight to the elevator. I look sideways at the tall, large shouldered man in dark suit with a beard that's long enough to cover his neck who joins me. He presses the button to the floor immediately next to mine and paranoia starts to set in. I clutch the briefcase tightly to my chest, my eyes turned to the display above the door but keeping track of the man's movements.

The pressure in my chest doesn't relax until I'm inside my hotel suite, quickly shedding my coat and shoes, and tossing the damn briefcase onto the loveseat in the middle of the living room.

"Fuck!" I mutter, my breathing rapid, my heart thumping heavily in my chest.

And I fully blame Delphine. Her incessant, alarming warnings causing me to nearly have a fucking panic attack just by walking through the hotel lobby and riding an elevator.

The room's temperature is perfect and I lose my clothes on the way to the bathroom where I turn on the faucet on the generous bathtub, smiling to myself when I find a small basket filled with bath goodies. I pick a black orchid bath bomb, drop it in the filling bathtub, watching the water starting to light turn purple. I think I need to indulge myself after the day I've had.

While I wait for the tub to fill I go to the living room and fish my smartphone out of my coat pocket - it's been quiet all day, which means Daniel hasn't tried to contact me yet. If I weren't so tired, I would try to guess the meaning of his silence - surely he has heard about what happened. Instead I go to the bedroom and stretch over the bed to reach for the cheap phone, unplug it from the charger and replace it with my personal one. As expected there are 18 missed calls, all from the same number - only one person knows this phone exists.

I return the call and, while it's immediately picked up, the person on the other end says nothing, I just hear them breathing, because S is too smart to assume it's me calling after I stayed all day without answering.

"Hi S," I say, trying to sound cheerful.

"Cosima!" Siobhan breathes out. "Where the hell have you been?" After the quick relief comes the scold.

"I left the phone at the hotel, didn't want to carry it with me," I explain, getting up and walking to the bathroom.

"And why are you calling only now?" She asks.

"I was away from the city, trying to lay low for a while," I answer.

"The journalist killed..?" She starts.

"Yep, that's my guy," I cut her off. "Don't worry, I'm safe and as far as I can tell, no one has identified me yet," I quickly assure her.

"Forget about that!" She sounds adamant. "I want you to get back! There's nothing there for you."

"No, I have his notes." I say in a calm voice, dipping my hand on the water to check the temperature and adjusting the cold handle. "I want to try to get in contact with some people before I call it quits."

"Wouldn't the police be doing that too?" S doesn't sound convinced at all.

"I have the only copy," I tell her. "I doubt they can get to these people before I do."

She's quiet for several seconds and I can almost see her displeased frown as she considers my plan. "Okay," she finally says. "Two days, Cosima! If after that you have nothing, I want you back."

"I don't think Daniel would be very pleased with that," I comment, the phone secure between my jaw and shoulder as I take off the rest of my clothes.

"Have you talked with him yet? After what happened, that is."

I put her on speaker, and place the phone on top of the towel draped over the lip of the large, porcelain tub. Next to it goes another towel, meant for me to rest my head on, and I sink into the water, releasing a satisfied groan.

"What are you doing?" Siobhan asks, her tone losing some of the seriousness.

"It's bath time," I chuckle. "And no, I haven't spoken with him yet, in fact he hasn't even tried to reach me." I lay my head back and close my eyes. "Although, I really should. He's paying for all this, after all."

"It's probably a good idea," she says. "Are you going to tell him about the journalist's notes?"

"I think I rather see where those lead me before I decide anything," I respond, my mind starting to lose focus on the conversation. "I don't want to say anything before I know what I have."

"You still haven't read them?" Siobhan voice echoes of the bathroom walls and fills the space.

"Kinda hard since I don't speak Polish," I deadpan. "I'm just looking for names."

She's quiet again and I hear her tapping on computer keys. "I have a guy over there," she says. "He'll help you with the translation. I'll text you his info."

"And we can trust him?" I ask, opening my eyes and turning my head to the phone as if I could see her.

"As much as I'm willing to trust anyone at this point," she says. "But he's been retired for nearly 20 years, so I doubt he's involved in any of this. Last I heard, he lives near the Ukrainian border, so you better get a car."

I nod. "Yes, it might be good to get out of Warsaw for another day."

"Good! Stay safe," she responds quickly. "And take the damn phone with you!"

At this, she disconnects and I sink deeper into the water, my mind swirling as doubts begin to rise, wondering if it was a good idea to keep Delphine's presence hidden from Mrs. S. Sure, this fact only adds to the mistrust we already have about her, but I can't deny the that if it wasn't for her I could've been in severe trouble earlier. So, I decide that, at least for the time being, this was the best course of action.

I linger in the tub for a long while, reheating the water once, and letting the strong fragrance seep into my skin, fill my lungs, and allow my mind to drift. I'm not surprised when it lands on Delphine, and I don't fight it when my memory replays her kisses, her touches. The water hugs my body and it turns into Delphine's hands, Delphine's lips roam my skin, the fragrant steam rises into the air and whispers soft words into my ear I can't translate.

It's the loud ring of the phone next to my head that prevents me from falling asleep. I mutter a low "shit!" and grab the device: a text from S with a "John Calvin" number and GPS coordinates.

I get out and towel myself, heading to the bedroom. Once there, I discard the towel onto a nearby chair and pull back the soft duvet. I drop across the bed and stretch to reach my  _official_  phone and enter the coordinates into the GPS app. The address is just outside the rural district of Solina, some 400km away, which translates into over a 6 hours drive. Briefly I consider calling Daniel, but a yawn makes me drop that idea. I pull an incredibly smooth sheet over my body. Sleep comes quickly.

At first it feels like I'm drowning. Breathing is hard but still manageable, I try to move my right arm forward but feel it restrained.

"Cosima..." The whisper in the distance reaches my ears and I try to respond, but I am caught in the empty space between unconsciousness and awareness, somehow trapped in a dream Mrs. S has cut short.

"You need to wake up!"

The voice is clearer, materializes itself. I open my eyes to a weak light slipping between the drapes, and recognize Delphine's curls, her strong jawline and elegant nose in the dimness. She's covering my mouth with the palm of her hand, not forcefully but enough to prevent me from speaking. The other hand firmly holds my right wrist along my body. She must've noticed I'm awake because she relaxes her grip but doesn't let go.

"We need to be quiet," she whispers very close to my face, her voice tense.

I nod my acknowledgement and she finally releases me, straightening her back to tower over me next to the bed.

"What are you doing here?" I ask confused, even as I follow her advice and keep my voice low. "How did you get in?"

"Someone's coming," Delphine says, ignoring my question. "Get your stuff!"

I sit up, the sheet falls and crumbles around my waist as I struggle to regain full awareness. "What are you talking about?"

Her wide gaze falls to my chest briefly before she quickly turns around on her heels and starts to collect the clothes I left scattered throughout the floor when I got in. I roll my eyes and throw back the sheet, reaching for the phone in the nightstand, I see it's only 4:43 am.

"Don't turn the lights on!" Her voice raises just barely and she continues not to look at me as she's stuffing my clothes in my bag.

"I actually need those," I say and she immediately freezes.

Shaking the head to myself I get up and fish inside the bag for underwear and a pair of jeans that I dress quickly before getting the hoody left on the foot of the bed. Only after I'm dressed does she look at me again, which causes me to roll my eyes again at the ridiculousness of the situation.

"Where's the briefcase?" Delphine asks and she's moving again, from the pocket of her coat she gets a flashlight and turns it on, pointing it to the floor to keep the brightness to a minimum.

"On the couch in the living room," I answer, not feeling nearly as worked up as she clearly is. I follow her across the bedroom and see her approaching the couch. "Are you gonna tell me what's..."

And I stop. The small opening under the front door attracts my attention, the lights suddenly disappearing. My eyes go to Delphine, who's urging me to be quiet with a finger over her lips, her stare moving to the door where a low rustling noise rises. She moves fast but silently, and is abruptly right in front of me.

"Get your things," she whispers into my ear.

With no time to say or do anything else, I go into the bedroom, collect the two cellphones and stuff them in the bag, in the bathroom I collect my underwear that Delphine has missed. The big luggage is hardly appropriate for a quick retreat and I fight with the handle, deciding that for now is best to let it roll on the floor. When I return to the living room, Delphine's leaned against the wall right by the door, gun in hand with the barrel to the ceiling and calls me with a movement of her wrist. I lift the luggage and stand next to her.

Delphine looks at me and aims her chin to the couch where the briefcase is still on along with my long coat. I mouth a "fuck!" and quietly get them both under Delphine's disapproving gaze, certain I see her shaking her head a little. Her eyes move between me and the door and we can hear someone breathing heavily on the other side, a very low clicking noise, like metal hitting metal. I sling the strap of the briefcase over my shoulder and take a firm grip on the handle of my luggage and give her a quick nod, signaling that I'm ready.

Delphine reaches for the doorknob with her free hand, the barrel of the gun aiming at where the door will open. Our trespasser finally manages to break the lock but Delphine's hand on the knob prevents him from opening the door without effort. We hear his breathing increase and he prepares to put more weight in his efforts. My entire body tenses, preparing to make a run for it, but it happens so fast that I don't react immediately. Just as he applies more strength to push the door open, Delphine twists the knob and the door swings open and the intruder - a large man, dressed in black and wearing a tactical mask - loses his balance and topples forward only to have Delphine slam the door square in his face, the crunching sound of his nose breaking making me cringe. He staggers, caught by surprise, but seeming more concerned about the blow to his face, and Delphine quickly takes him down, twisting her foot around his ankle to trip him and shoving his chest with the palm of her left hand. He resembles large tree as he falls.

Delphine's hand is firm around my left wrist and she tugs me out of the bedroom and into the dark hallway, the green emergency lights are illuminated, and I assume they'd cut the power. Delphine gives me a light push, encouraging me to go ahead, in the opposite direction of the elevators, as we leave the man struggling to get to his feet and screaming something I can't understand.

"He's calling for backup! We need to move!" Delphine is no longer whispering, instead stressing every syllable.

I move as quickly as my luggage allows me, moving like an invalid, my right side heavier due to the case I carry on my hand. Only the adrenaline pumping in my veins and Delphine's hand on my forearm allows me to keep up. As we turn a corner, I look back, seeing her glancing over her shoulder to keep track of the man still holding his face, the gun on her hand going back as she does so, but she's not aiming. A green light on top of a door tells me we've reached the emergency stairs and I know what she means to do, so I press the bar handle to push the door open and we are in the stairwell. I wait for her and Delphine illuminates our path down with the flashlight held by the left hand under her right one to keep the gun steady and we start to go down the narrow stairs. We only descend two levels and are caught between floors when flashlights coming form below us flash their beam up.

"Merde!" Delphine stops, noticing our way out blocked. "Let's get to the next floor!" She decides quickly and we resume our descent, the luggage weighing me down.

The heavy footsteps on the iron staircase become muffled when she quietly shuts the door behind us and we're back in a dark hallway, emergency lights barely enough to see when she turns off her flashlight

"How many floors down?" She asks back to a low voice.

"Seven by my count," I answer and change the case from one hand to the other.

"Did you  _really_ need a penthouse?" Delphine rebukes, even in the middle of the tense situation.

"I didn't know I'd end up being chased by Polish goons!" I answer.

"They're Russian," she corrects me and restarts to walk.

"Of course they are," I puff and struggle to keep up with her. "We're never gonna get out of here." I comment, more to myself than for her benefit.

A small red light catches my attention on the wall and I stop although she doesn't notice. Pushing the sleeve of my shirt over my hand, I reach for the handle and pull. Immediately the fire alarm sounds, and she stops to look at me with a shocked expression.

"What did you do that for?!" She has to yell to be heard, even as doors start to open around us and people spill out into the hall, still too sleepy to realize what's going on.

"It's called a diversion tactic!" I almost have to scream and it's my turn to put a hand on her chest to make her go against the wall. "Look!" I indicate the people around us.

Some are still stupid enough to try the elevators, even though with the alarm they're probably no longer working, but most of them head for the stairs we've just emerged from, their cellphones screens lighting their way. Delphine looks at me and smirks, sliding the gun inside her pocket and we wait for a couple of minutes.

"Do you think our friends are still there?" I ask with my mouth next to her ear.

She shakes her head and we step into the crowd of people. As expected the stairs are free of henchmen, but heavily populated with confused hotel guests. The main lobby is no better, employees work hard to assure the many guests that there's no cause for panic. In the middle of the confusion we manage to get out onto the street without being stopped.

"This way!" Delphine says, walking to the side of the building.

I spot the white car and move ahead of her, Delphine constantly looking back to make sure we're not being followed and I wait by it for her to unlock it with the key. I'm pushing the luggage into the backseat when we hear tires screeching down the street and a black sedan speeding our way, coming from the back of the hotel.

"Shit!" I say loud looking over my shoulder.

"Here! You drive!" Delphine runs to the passenger side and tosses me the keys.

We get in and our own tires slide a little as I press on the gas.

"Where are we going?" I ask, taking my eyes off the road to look at her.

"It doesn't matter," she answers, opening the window on her side and getting out the gun. "Just lose them!"

I'm about to say that there's no need for guns when a loud pop echoes on the nearly empty street.

"Fuck!" I all but scream, ducking my head as if that would help and press on the clutch to shift up.

"Pay attention, Cosima!" Delphine says loud before sticking her head out the window and squeezing the trigger of her semi-automatic a couple of times.

"Fuck!" I repeat louder and take a hard turn, not really knowing where to go.

Another rain of bullets comes from behind us and I can hear some of them hitting the trunk of the car.

"Keep taking turns!" Delphine instructs and she's shooting again.

And I do, I take a hard left, the tires scream and I lose control of the vehicle for a heartbeat, entering the street on the wrong side of the road. The car moving towards us honks just as I regain control and dodge it.

"Fucking shit!" My words cut through the sound of the gunshots behind us.

Delphine says something with her head out the window that I don't understand, but it sounds like something along the same lines as she fires. I brake and shift down the next time I turn, this time a right into a much narrower street and step on the pedal as soon as the car is straight. She comes back inside and opens the glove compartment, finding an extra magazine.

"You need to keep the car steady, I can't aim properly with you driving all over the place!" She complains, sliding the empty magazine out and pushing the new one in.

"I can either keep turning or I can keep the car steady," I answer. "You need to make up your fucking mind!"

"They're gaining on us! We're never going to lose them with you at the wheel," she says as she cocks the gun.

"We're never going to lose them because this is a piece of crap!" I reply. "Did you get the worst car you could find?"

Delphine narrows her eyes at me and opens her mouth to answer but more bullets flying by us springs her into action and she leans out the window again, the frustration I can see growing in her expression used against the people chasing us.

We reach an intersection and I speed through the red light, the traffic barely existing but I still hear a few honks as I cross the much larger street and continue on the narrow road. Delphine shoots a few more rounds and comes back inside.

"This isn't working," she says breathing rapidly. "I'm running out of ammo and we can't beat them with speed."

"What do you propose we do then?" I ask, ducking my head when more bullets fly by us, one of them smashes the mirror on my side. "Fuck!"

"Slow down and try to keep the car steady!" She instructs and before I have time to complain about her strategy, she's leaning out the window again.

I ease off the gas, and the motor complains loudly as I force it down a gear. Just as I do it, Delphine fires twice and retreats back to her seat.

"I got one of their tires!" She tells me excitedly, a proud smirk on her lips. "Step on it!"

I take the car to high gear, in the rearview mirror the black sedan starts to lose ground and I take a turn into a large street without breaking, feeling the back of the old car careening for a split second, but its compact form helps me regain control fast.

"Are they still there?" I ask, no longer seeing them on the mirror.

"I think not," she tells me. "But keep driving. Get us out of this damn city!"

I maintain my speed for a few more blocks, and when I'm absolutely sure that we've lost them, I slow down. Delphine unclips the magazine from the gun and empties the chamber before she places everything back in the glove compartment.

"Three rounds left," she announces, sounding much less tense but still glancing at the mirror.

"I have no idea how they found me," I voice my immediate concern now that we seem to be out of harm's way.

"The could've checked hotel records," Delphine ventures. "It's not that hard."

"They'd need to know my name for that," I say, knowing now that was exactly how she found me.

"We can't discount anything," she insists. "That reminds me... what about your phones?"

"What about them?" I frown and look at her when we stop on a red light.

"They could be tracking them," she explains. "If you left them in the hotel... we don't know if this was their first visit."

"I only left one there," I tell her. "The other one was with me all the time. No way they have access to it; not with my firewall."

"Lose it!"

I stare at her but the determination in her stare doesn't waver and I see no option but to stop the car next to the curb and reach back for my bag. She watches me like a hawk while I bring the big luggage to my lap and open the zipper. I take out the phone I used to contact S and open the back lid, getting out the SIM card, I bend it until it breaks right over the chip. Next I open the door of the car, drop the phone and card to the ground and step on it with the heel of my boot until it's completely shattered.

"Good then!" Delphine praises, somewhat amused, when I close the door. "We can go now."

I don't answer her and remain quiet when I get my smartphone and place the luggage back on the backseat. I bring up the GPS navigation app and place the phone on my thigh, selecting our destination. All the while I'm preoccupied with Mrs. S reaction when I get back to her from different number and when will I be able to do that in the first place.

"Where are we going?" Delphine asks when I start the car and drive.

I look at her but decide not to answer, focusing my stare on the road.

"Oh... We're back to not talking again?" She doesn't seem disturbed my mood, casually rolling her window up. "It's hard to keep up."

I snort, but don't break my silence. My eyes go to her again, noticing her shift in the seat, taking off her coat and balling it to serve as a pillow. She pulls the seat belt over her chest and leans her head against the glass.

"Stick to the secondary roads and drive under the limit, please," she says already with her eyes closed

"Like this piece of junk can break the speed limit..." I break my silence to complain.

She laughs lowly. "Wake me up when we get there."


	28. Road Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my wonderful beta for an awesome job.

I have no clue how she could've fallen asleep so fast. Adrenaline was still coursing through my veins, and Delphine's breathing had already evened out. It occurs to me that she's probably exhausted, most likely having spent the night in her car, watching my hotel where she could see when the Russians were making a move to invade my room.

I never thanked her. For the second time in less than 24 hours, Delphine had saved my skin, and I'd failed to show her any kind of appreciation either time. I suppose it would've bothered me more if I knew what her angle was, which side is she on. But so far the only thing I know for sure is that whoever is after the briefcase is not the same people she's working for. Even so, and regardless of her intentions, it seems that for now, our interests have aligned and I should take advantage of it. Clearly, Delphine is no stranger to this sort of situation, she knows how to handle herself and I'd be a fool not to use it.

I've been driving for two hours straight when the sun rises, but the morning is dark, with heavy, gray clouds hiding the sun, and I fear that in a while I'll have to face the snow. I've followed Delphine's advice, that we're safer avoiding highways, but of course it has its downside. The secondary roads have added two hours to our journey and if it starts to snow, it will be even longer - not that I'm in a particular hurry.

Thirty minutes later, and I'm making a pit stop for gas and the bathroom. A teenage boy stares at our car with a raised brow, and I access the damage for the first time. Apart from having no side mirror, the trunk of the car has three perfectly round holes, the flattened bullets inside it when I open the trunk. The boy stares at me with a scared look on his face, but he's smart enough not to ask any questions as he scrambles to fill the tank. As he does so, I take the bullets in the palm of my hand, for a moment no knowing what to do with them and eventually stuff them in my pocket.

He tells me something, his eyes moving between me and the damage to the car. I only shake my head, open the back door and reach inside my luggage. Money is the international language and the young man seems to speak it perfectly when I place a 200 euro bill in his hand and push it towards his chest. A huge smile appears under his poor excuse of a mustache and he nods his head.

"Is Daniel paying for the bribes as well?" Delphine's voice is soft, but I jump when she speaks as I pull back onto the road.

I look at her surprised, sure she'd been asleep the entire time. "Not that he knows of," I answer and she releases a small chuckle. "Where does he think you are?" I ask.

Delphine stretches lazily and curls one hand behind her neck, moving it stiffly from side to side, probably sore from sleeping in an uncomfortable position. "France," she answers. "I told him I was visiting family."

I hum. "I should call him later," I offer. From the corner of my eye, I see her shifting, adjusting the seat backwards to have a little more leg room. "Should I be worried that he hasn't said anything after what happened with the journalist? He knows I'm here, you'd think he'd make the connection."

She moves her head to the side to look at me and raises a brow. "You think he has something to do with it?"

I shrugs and keep my eyes on the road. It has started to snow. "I don't know what to think, really," I say. "But you've known him for much longer..."

She's thoughtful for a while and I feel her intense stare on me. "I don't think so," she finally says, shaking her head and looking at the road. "I doubt he has any idea what he's gotten himself into."

I frown, my eyes going to her briefly. "Which is..?" I prompt.

"He's not entirely innocent, far from it," Delphine says. "But he's trying to branch out and I don't think he's aware of what that means. The type of people he's messing with."

"Branch out from what?" I insist, taking advantage of the opportunity when Delphine seems to be open to answering some questions.

Delphine straightens her back and sits properly, her gaze is one me again and she breathes once, deeply. "What do you think is going on?" She asks. And I know she's going to decide what to tell me based on what I know.

"From what I gather... I think he's just trying to take over his father's company," I say. "I think he's making a move to replace his daddy and step up as head of the Webster's corporation." I stop to look at her, trying to read her reaction, but Delphine doesn't seem particularly surprised and she simply hums. "The thing is..." I continue, figuring I should give her something more. "What exactly is their business? If it's simply mergers and acquisitions, then they wouldn't need the type of security team they hired."

"Then what do you think it is?" She asks, a little more interested in what I have to say.

"Nothing legal," I answer flatly. "That's the only thing I know for sure. And if Daniel is considering dealing with the Russians or if the Russians have approached him - which seems to be the case in the person of Mariusz - then who the fuck knows what it is." I think aloud. "They have their hands on everything."

Delphine hums again and nods. "We can find the answer for that in Oskar's notes," she says with her stare going to the briefcase on the backseat.

"We?" I raise a brow and look at her. "I thought you knew what this was about."

She smirks and looks straight ahead. "I have my suspicions but no proof."

"Yeah... that seems to be everyone's problem," I say. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I don't think Oskar was any closer to finding out what they're up to either."

"Oskar was looking for any kind of connection," Delphine answers in a way that makes me believe that the journalist was no stranger to her. "His investigation was all over the place. He lacked focus, which is why he never got any answers - the more he dug the more questions he had."

"You knew him," I say with certainty.

Delphine nods. "I knew his research," she answers. "Never met him in person."

"Have you ever tried to contact him?" I ask, trying not to sound too insistent.

"Not personally," she repeats. "But I heard he's a slippery one... or was," she adds lowly.

I chuckle and nod. "Yeah... The only person I know who hates answering questions more than him is you," I comment. "You would've hated him."

"We've talked about that, Cosima," she sounds exasperated.

"Yeah, yeah... I know," I say, twisting my lips. "You don't want to lie, but you don't want to tell the truth either."

"I  _can't_  tell the truth!" She corrects me immediately. "This is bigger than us."

"So you keep saying..." I comment, obvious annoyance in my voice.

We remain quiet for some time, the distance between us weighing on our silence. I'm no closer to finding out who she's working for, but I've managed to exclude some parts. It seems, like myself, that she's a third party in all of this. Delphine's definitely following orders and she's not working alone. I'm reminded of what S found out - or better, what she didn't find - when she ran a background check on Delphine. She's a ghost. Just like me. I'm starting to entertain the idea that Delphine and I have a lot more in common than just our past.

"How long until we get there?" Her voice interrupts my thoughts.

"At least five more hours with this weather," I answer, gesturing out the windshield where the snow is falling lightly but steady. "You should get some more sleep."

"We should switch cars," she says, ignoring my recommendation and reaching for her phone. "There's a car dealer about 30km from here, to the West," she informs me, staring at her phone.

"And how are we going to do that?" I ask.

"Leave it to me!" Delphine says with assurance.

To be honest, I'm not sure she can make the transaction, but I follow her directions and head west, knowing a small detour will make little difference. We reach a small town with the dealership right off the main road, and I drive the beat up car inside its gates.

We step out of the car and a man in his late fifties, wearing a severely used blue suit starts to approach us.

"See if you can find us some coffee and something to eat while I take care of this," Delphine says, struggling to close her long coat in the harsh wind that makes the light snowflakes swirl around her.

"You sure you don't need me to stay?" I ask, my eyes on the rough looking man getting close to us.

"Don't worry, I got this!" And she already has an adorably innocent smile in place.

Freaking unbelievable!

I take a deep breath and shrug as I turn to leave. When I'm out of the gates, in pursuit of what she's asked for, I look back, seeing her shake his hand with a big smile and notice the man contemplating her top to bottom, clearly stunned by the beautiful woman's presence in the middle of nowhere.

The small village probably doesn't have more than 3000 habitants, but the main Street has an assortment of commerce, mostly coffee houses, a few bakeries, and a small grocery store. It has only just opened and the owner, a old woman, wrapped up in warm clothes, is still placing fresh produce in small boxes just outside the store, under a yellow awning. A few stores down I locate an electronics store, phones and tablets displayed on the window and I step inside. Still empty, the sleepy looking clerk glances at me while I pick a prepaid phone to replace the one left destroyed on some street in Warsaw. Maybe this small detour was not such a bad idea.

I return to the dealership with my hands full. The plastic bag with the phone dangling on one arm while the hand carries two steaming cups of black coffee. My other hand is occupied with a box with croissants I got from one of the bakeries - might not be as good as the ones she's used to, but at least I know she'll like it.

To my surprise I see Delphine carrying my luggage from the white car to a dirty, dark blue one, equally old. The only improvement is that this one doesn't have holes in it.

"So you do choose the worst cars in the lot," I say, placing the coffee cups on the roof of it and opening the backdoor to carelessly throw the phone onto the backseat, while the box is placed carefully upright.

She looks at me and smiles. "I select cars that are unlikely to attract attention," she responds, shutting the door and coming around to stand behind me. "Skoda is one of the best selling brands in Poland, we'll fit right in."

"Yeah, but did it need to be such an old model? I hope it didn't cost you too much," I comment, handing her the cups for her to hold.

"I got a good deal," she says, waving at the man standing at the entrance of what I assume to be the office.

He smiles widely and even from a good twenty meters away I can see him blushing.

"I bet you did," I say under my breath, chuckling. "He'll probably remember this day for the rest of his life. The day this smoking hot French lady used her charm to rip him off."

Delphine grins mischievously at me, confirming my statement and takes the passenger seat. "Keys are in the ignition," she says, setting the coffees on the dashboard. "And I didn't force him to do anything."

"You didn't have to," I say, backing up slowly and out of the lot. "The poor man doesn't know what hit him."

She reaches into the backseat and places the box with the pastries onto her lap. If she notices my other purchase, she makes no comment. When we're back on the road with nothing but asphalt ahead of us, Delphine hands me one of the coffees and takes a liberal sip of her own, moaning slightly in pleasure and distracting me for a brief moment. Next she attacks the bakery's box, taking one of the croissants and eating it with genuine satisfaction. I drink my coffee and when she hands me a pastry I take it and I suppose we should just call this breakfast.

"So... exactly where are we going?" She asks when she's done eating.

"We're going to visit this guy who's going to help me with the notes," I answer with my eyes on the road.

"Is he Polish? How do you know him?" Delphine sounds surprised, curiosity obvious in her questions.

"No, I don't think so," I say. "And I don't exactly know him. Someone else does."

Delphine is quiet and I can feel her eyes on me. I expect follow up questions but they never come. The silence is broken when she reaches for the radio and scans the stations until she lands on a soft rock tune that she leaves playing quietly. The next time I look at her, her eyes closed, arms crossed over her chest and hands tucked under her arms to keep herself warm. I'm not sure if she's asleep but I don't try to talk to her either, she can probably use some rest.

For the next two hours I drive, the music on the radio my only company as I follow the directions on the GPS. The snow continues to fall, making the roads, already in poor condition, almost impassable, and the heavy clouds don't indicate that it's going to get any better. A trip that's supposed to last 6 hours may very well take twice as long, considering how slowly I'm forced to drive.

We're still 200km away from our destination when I have to make a bathroom stop. I park the car as close as possible to the toilets in a service station, and when I return to the vehicle, Delphine is still in the same position as when I left her. I quietly grab the bag with the phone, unbox it, and slide the SIM card in place. I turn from the car, taking the opportunity to stretch my legs as I press the power button, hoping that has at least some battery and breathing in deeply when the screen lights up. I walk some more, putting some distance between Delphine and the call I'm about to make.

I dial the number I have memorized and it rings several times without S picking up. I end the call and text the same number a simple "it's cosima". When I try again she takes the call.

"What happened to the other phone?" She asks immediately.

"I had to ditch it," I answer, looking back over my shoulder to see Delphine in the same position. "By now you should've heard about what happened at the hotel."

A long silence and then, "What are you talking about?" She asks clearly confused.

"Last night..." I say, frowning my brows. "A group of men stormed in, had to hurry out."

Siobhan is quiet again for a long time and I wonder if the reception is breaking.

"I have heard nothing of the sort," she comes back to me, tension in her voice. "You're telling me you had to leave?"

"Yes," I answer. "I think they were after the journalist's notes. They tried to break into my room... In fact, they succeeded."

"Are you alright?" She asks quickly. "Where are you now?"

"I'm fine. I managed to get out and lose them," I respond, my eyes still on Delphine, whose presence I keep to myself. "I'm on my way to see about that Calvin guy."

"I don't know, Cosima..." Siobhan says a bit lower. "This is getting too dangerous."

"Let me just do this," I insist. "I'm safe now. In fact, I'm in the middle of nowhere, no cars in sight for several minutes straight. I've even changed vehicles a few miles back."

"I don't like the idea of you being on your own out there." The concern is clear in he voice. "If you need help I have no one close enough to get to you fast."

"I'll be alright!" And my eyes don't leave the blonde. "I'm gonna pay a visit to your contact and we'll go from there."

"I'll call him, tell him you're on your way, so you don't just show up out of nowhere," Ms. S says and the worry tone persists.

"Yes, that'll be good," I nod.

"If anything feels remotely wrong, I want you to walk away, Cosima! Do you understand?" She demands firmly.

"Promise!"

I end the call and return to the car, shutting the door quietly.

"Everything alright?" Delphine asks in a hoarse voice, eyes closed.

"Do you ever sleep?" I ask, turning the keys in the ignition.

A small smile touches her lips, but she doesn't move. "Occasionally."

"Everything is fine," I answer, shaking my head and smiling as well. "Just making sure the man we're visiting is expecting us."

"What's his name?" She starts to show mild interest, opening one of her eyes.

"John Calvin."

Delphine opens both her eyes and stares at me with a slight sign of recognition. "Like the Protestant reformist?" She comments confused and when I shrug she continues. "What I mean is that's not his real name."

"As long as he gives me what I want and keeps his mouth shut, he can call himself whatever he likes," I say distractedly, keeping my focus on the road.

"How very practical of you..." she mumbles.

"I need to prioritize. My back is against the wall on this one, can't exactly afford to be picky," I explain. "Given a choice, I'd go about this much differently. I don't like this one bit!"

"Did you really think you could do this by yourself?" She asks as if I'm crazy to think so.

"If everything had gone according to plan, I don't see why not," I nod, my stare going to her momentarily. "I just wanted to come over, ask a few questions about a certain someone and leave with a bit of information. It was not supposed to be a big deal. I had no idea this would get so messy!"

"Things never go according to plan!" Delphine chuckles and shakes her head. "At least that's how I see it. You should always be prepared for that; have a plan B."

"Yes, yes... I know... Amateur hour," I comment.

"But you're not an amateur, are you?" Delphine fishes, her stare on me. "You've been doing this for a while now, haven't you? Whatever this is... You're not just an average IT."

"Never claimed to be," I answer casually, but keenly aware of my words. Delphine's searching for information about myself as much as I am about her. "I'm part of a security team and Daniel knows this, otherwise he wouldn't have sent me to Poland."

"Still... I doubt very much he knows exactly what kind of people he hired." Delphine's opening her game a little bit and is letting me know what's on her mind. "After all, you're not exactly working for the Webster's."

I tilt a brow, surprised that she has said it aloud with such candor. "You're one to talk..." I comment offhandedly, but knowing that my words would cause a reaction.

Delphine's body tenses, she straightens her back in her seat and narrows her eyes at me, a small flame ignited in them, but she doesn't pursue this line of conversation. Instead she goes quiet, a thoughtful expression falls across her face, and she turns to gaze out of the window, suddenly very interested in the snow covered woods passing by us slowly. I've touched a nerve, and whatever Delphine's motivations are, she's not sharing. Who's she working for? What's her goal? I simply don't know. We're not in the same side, but I have the feeling she's not the enemy either. It seems like she's willing to help me as long as it serves her purpose - whatever it is. But I can't exactly blame her. I'm willing to allow her to come along, let her help me, and in some way use the information she mysteriously has access to, as long as it suits me. I'm certain that when either of us becomes a dead weight to the other, neither will hesitate to part ways and follow our own interests.

Somehow I know this will happen eventually, that sooner or later our interests will clash. I just hope that when the moment arrives, we can cut ties cleanly, without damage. I hope, but I seriously doubt it. Despite my best judgement and years of listening to Siobhan's lectures, I've already allowed this situation to get out of control.  _Don't get emotional, don't let feelings guide you_ , Mrs. S has warned me countless times.  _It's just a job. Keep it professional. Nothing is personal._

She'd be more disappointed than angry if she knew the whole story. She'd shake her head and mumble  _Cosima, Cosima..._  in a sad voice. Still, she wouldn't abandon me, but I have no doubt she'd pull me immediately off the job, even if it means the failure of the entire mission. No matter what, we always come first. Me, Sarah and Felix have always been her priority.

Except this time it is personal. Even if Delphine was not a factor, we're all threatened. Someone is sabotaging us, placing all of us in danger. If she knew about Delphine's involvement, Mrs. S would still call the whole thing off, but the danger wouldn't go away, and we wouldn't be able to find out what the hell is going on. We are directly under attack and are now in a privileged position to peel back some layers to this situation. Giving up now would push us back several, very important steps and there's no saying when or if we could recover. Not telling her about Delphine is a judgement call I'm willing to risk because I believe it benefits all of us.

I know that, at this point, I'm rationalizing. I have a selfish and very irrational desire to keep the blonde close, but it doesn't mean that my logic has no merit.

So, Delphine will stay by my side as long as she proves herself useful and doesn't pose an immediate danger to our objectives. The same way that she'll go when these requirements are no longer met. On the other hand, Delphine's involvement must be kept from my partners, for their own good, to keep our attention focused on what matters: find out who's behind the troubles we're having and why.

Delphine has gained some importance to me, it would be silly to deny this. But she's far from being my priority.


	29. Outline The Strategy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks to Cophine, "the incredible beta"! Also a big shout out to all of my readers who've been following the story, I really don't think I praise you enough for all the encouragement you give me.

I wasn't really sure what to expect from Ms. S's contact, but when the coordinates lead me to a narrow, dirt road covered in deep snow in the middle of nowhere, my mind starts to make some conjectures. An old, bitter man living as an eremite, away from civilization, awaiting us with a shotgun seemed like the most plausible scenario. Of course, this is not exactly what we find.

It's the middle of the afternoon and we only have a few hours of weak sunlight left when the GPS system indicates that we've finally reached our destination. Still, I have to drive a few miles down the same road until I find signs of human life in the form of a low brick wall, painted a dirty salmon, and an iron gate. I suspect it was placed there more to enclose the property than to serve as security. I stop in front of the gate and search the area for a bell of some sort, but find nothing. Delphine remains silent. She's been awake for a while, but is in a foul mood. We've barely spoken, and I really don't want to get into it now.

I exit the car and shut the door, hugging myself against the cold, and move to get a better look - at least the snow has stopped. I approach the gate and scan the area inside, seeing that the road leading to a large, single story house, is cleared of snow, indicating that someone has used the driveway at some point today. The fields surrounding the house seem well taken care of. A wooden structure, resembling a small barn, sits at the east edge of the property, while at the west end, I see a green house. A fairly new Ford truck is parked next to the main building, indicating that someone must be home.

"Hello!" I shout, my breath forming a thick cloud in front of me. "Anyone there? Mr. Calvin!"

The only response is the barking of a dog in the distance and I look back to see Delphine, still in the car, staring at me with an arched brow. For a moment I don't know what to do, standing here, on what looks like a ranch in the middle of some thick woods that will be crawling with predators once night falls. My eyes travel between Delphine and the house, while I consider calling S again, or perhaps the number she has given me as the man's contact.

Suddenly, the door opens and I hear the furious barking grow closer as a German Shepherd races towards me and slides to a stop on the other side of the gate, clearly in an attack position.

"Shit!" I step away from the gate, my eyes only leaving the dog to look at the man slowly walking down the path.

"Calm down, girl," the man says in a soothing voice, patting the animal's head. "I'm sure Cosima means no harm," he looks at me squinting his eyes, "unless you're not her."

"I'm definitely her," I say, my eyes returning to the big dog, even though she's much calmer now, her nose moving between the gate's bars to sniff my hand.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting you so soon," he then says, moving to open the gate. "Why don't you park next to my truck?"

"Yes. Thank you."

I return to the car and do as he says, while in the rearview mirror I watch him close the gate. He's not an old man, maybe in his early fifties, not very tall but with a strong, compact body. His skin is dark, permanently tanned by many hours spent under the sun, but his features are pleasant, the sort that indicates a smile is never too far away from his clean shaven face. His dirty blond hair is already graying at the roots, but he walks with steady steps in our direction, the dog happily following him with the tail swinging energetically.

Still without uttering a word, Delphine gets out of the car as soon as we stop, pulling the coat over her shoulders and the collar up. I get out as well and watch the dog approaching Delphine, who, without flinching, lowers her hand to let the animal sniff her fingers before she scratches behind raised hears, a little smile on her lips.

"I was only expecting one person," John comments as he approaches us, observing the interaction between his dog and the blonde.

I look at Delphine, but she's distracted by the animal - or, more likely, pretending to be, in order for me to offer an explanation for her presence.

"Delphine is..." I introduce in a casual tone. "She's sort of my bodyguard." I offer, and see Delphine smirk at my response.

The man looks between the two of us and eventually shrugs. "Very well," he says. "Why don't we get out of the cold and go inside."

They start to walk to the door, while I stay behind just to open the back door of the car and collect the briefcase with Oskar's notes.

The front door opens directly into a large space with high ceiling, a roaring blaze in the fireplace to warm the place against the wall that leads to the interior of the house, judging by the door on either side. A long, black leather couch, draped with colorful blankets is in the center of the room, and a dining area is set off to the left side of the room. An audiovisual station, with a large, flat screen TV and an assortment of electronic boxes one would expect in the lower shelf is relegated to second plane, as well as a desktop computer. Shelves filled with books are distributed along the walls, as well as on the low table in front of the couch, along with a large astray and a pipe resting on it. It's not exactly a risk to assume this is where John spends most of his time.

"Are those the notes?" He asks and my attention is pulled back to him in the middle of the room, looking at my hand.

"Hmmm... yes!" I say and hand him the briefcase. "They seem to be quite extensive and there appear to be some documents too."

He opens the briefcase and slides the stack of papers on top of the dining table. "Well... this could take a while," he comments to himself while flipping through the papers. "Where do you plan on staying?"

"I'm sure we can find a place nearby," I answer, glancing at Delphine, who's produced a phone and is staring at its screen with a frown.

"Not likely," John says discouragingly. "But I have a spare room, you're welcome to stay the night," he offers.

My gaze falls again on the blonde. "What do you think, Delphine?"

She's obviously distracted by whatever is on the phone, and seems caught by surprise when I call her name. Her eyes meet mine, but not really focusing. "Whatever you decide," she answers. "I need to make a call," she announces, and is already walking to the front door. Incredibly, the dog follows her outside.

"Zoey likes her," John comments, I assume referring to his dog. "And she's usually a good judge of character."

"Your dog might be broken then," I mumble, but my words are heard.

"If you don't trust your  _bodyguard_ , we might have a problem," he says, moving to the couch and sitting.

"It's not that I don't trust her, it's more like..." I stop and think for a second. "Like I don't know if I should," I decide.

He hums. "How much does she know about what you're doing here or about our friend in common?"

"She doesn't know Siobhan, or that I work for her, and I'd like to keep it that way," I pause for effect and he nods in understanding. "About what I'm doing here, to be honest, even I'm not sure."

"It happens," John says in a calm way, reaching for his pipe and removing a tobacco pouch from his breast pocket. "Sometimes, circumstances change, and what we're supposed to do initially gets a bit blurred by all the rest. But, if you're as smart as Siobhan tells me, I'm sure you'll figure it out."

He pauses to light his pipe, and a fragrant steam rises around us as he takes the first drag and closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them again, his expression is much more serious as his gaze meets mine.

"Siobhan has told me you're looking for information regarding one Mariusz Baczkowski, and that those notes," he points at the papers on the table, "belong to a journalist who met his maker a little too soon."

I nod. "Yes, that's correct, but I haven't had much luck so far. The man seems to be pretty subtle in his moves."

"Oh... He is now, but not when he was younger. I think your luck is about to change," John says with a big smile. "You see... When S called me, I immediately recognized the name, but I wasn't sure from where, so I did a little digging of my own. As it turns out, Mariusz is from a small town not too far from here. In fact, he's sort of a celebrity there. Growing up poor and making it big, he generously donated to a few local charities."

"Ohhh... That's interesting."

"Indeed..." The man nods and turns to the front door when Delphine steps inside. He looks back at me and I see hesitation in his eyes, probably unsure of how much he can share in her presence.

"And if we go there, do you think we can find out a bit more about him?" I ask, subtly letting him know that, as far as Mariusz is concerned, Delphine's on the know.

"It might be hard to get them to talk," he explains. "You'll find some English speaking locals at the post office and other public services," he goes on. "But, like I said, Mariusz has contributed greatly to the town, so you won't find people willing to badmouth him."

"What if we pose as journalists?" I offer and I'm very aware of Delphine's eyes on me, in the corner of my eye I catch a glimpse of her frowning. "We could say we're there to do some research for a fluffy piece about him; his background, how he came from humble origins and became successful, his philanthropic efforts... It could work."

"How are you going to explain the sudden interest of an American newspaper in him?" Delphine asks and for the first time she seems engaged in the conversation, pulling a chair from the table and sitting with her back straight. "More importantly, how are you going to prevent him from knowing there were some foreign journalists in there asking questions about him? Certainly, the moment we get there someone will warn him."

My stare is locked with hers, and I feel the flame of defiance rising inside me. "You don't know that for sure," I challenge. "I seriously doubt that he has no enemies. It's impossible to keep everyone happy."

"Yes, you're right," she nods, but I see that Delphine's far from convinced. "Maybe we get lucky and find a childhood friend he has forgotten about, or a distraught ex-girlfriend." At the last words she meets my stare and I roll my eyes. "But, in the meantime, someone has already warned him."

"And what do you propose we do, then?" I ask with a bite. "All I hear from you is problems with no solutions."

"I'm just pointing out the obvious flaws in your plan," she answers in a overbearing tone and moving an arm forward.

"Then, how about you come with a plan yourself, huh?" My blood is starting to boil and I don't bother to hide my irritation. "One that's bullet proof, since you're so fucking perfect and think of everything!"

At this, John, who's been silent during our exchange, gets up from the couch and my eyes go to him, suddenly becoming aware of my surroundings. He empties the remains of tobacco left unburned in his pipe in the ashtray and stretches.

"I'm going to get us something for dinner," he announces in a calm voice, a stark contrast with the bitterness between Delphine and I. "You girls figure out what you want to do." He says as he leaves the room, exiting through the door to the right of the fireplace. The dog stays put, curled on the bed placed closed to the fire, and exhales deeply as she shifts slightly to another position. Delphine and I remain quiet, not looking at each other, swallowing the embarrassment for a while.

"I'm sure we can find another way."

She's the first to break the awkward silence, extending a hand in an offer of truce. Her words sound much softer, but when I turn to answer, her eyes are trained on the flames keeping the room warm. Or perhaps the heat I'm feeling is from me losing my temper and not the temperature in the room.

"We just need to think about it for a little bit, don't jump to the first idea we get. Don't be impulsive, Cosima," she advises in the calm voice.

Silence again.

It's not that I think she's wrong. I realize that all the problems she pointed out are valid and should be addressed, but it was her tone; patronizing and arrogant. And the hand she stretched out to me falls short, doesn't feel like enough. Not only because of the discussion we just had, but mostly because this is simply the latest in a very long list of situations where she has shown little respect for my input. Something that has happened for as long as I remember.

Perhaps I've catered to Delphine's stubbornness for too long; let her stand her ground without pushing back too many times. I suppose the moment has arrived when I also need to stand my ground, take back some of the territory she has taken from me on this battlefield we've called our relationship. She's too dominant, has had the lead on too many aspects, and I'll no longer allow her to win every battle.

Although I still haven't had the time to process or even understand it, I'm sure our night together is not completely irrelevant to this change in dynamics. Until then, I wasn't sure if she was merely playing her games, manipulating me for her own benefit, but that was a fucking revelation. There are things a person can't fake, no matter how hard they try: biology doesn't lie. The eagerness was there, the passion was present at every moment, and I suspect Delphine might have let on more than she wanted to. Even if she used sex to achieve her goal of gaining my trust, which I find entirely possible, it doesn't mean that what I felt coming from her wasn't real, that the desire doesn't live inside her. And that could very well have been a misstep on her part. I think it's safe to assume that it has caught her by surprise as much as it did me. Today, she's no longer as calculating as she was yesterday, her decisions are no longer purely designed to her own convenience. Perhaps I can feel her self-control slipping and I'd be a fool not to take advantage of it. So, I'm going to push back when I see the opportunity, when I think I can get something out of it. But for now, I'm better served working with her.

"My first thought was actually to locate his previous business partners, not exploring his private life," I tell her in a low voice and she looks me in the eye, so I continue. "People he's done business with in the past are more likely to spill the beans on some dirt, since they don't have any sort of personal relationship with him."

Delphine nods slowly. "Yes, that's a much better idea," she agrees. "Oskar's notes may give us some names and we might be able to track down some of Mariusz's previous business partners."

"How long have you known exactly what I'm doing here?" I ask flatly, no inflection in my voice, because at this point very little will surprise me regarding the information Delphine has acquired.

"I've known all along," she smirks a little, some of her confidence returning, seeming much more comfortable discussing non-personal issues. "If it gives you any comfort, it wasn't from you that I got this information. I've probably known about Mariusz long before you ever heard of him."

"So Daniel is the source," I state with conviction. "I'm surprised he'd share something like that with you, since he was very clear that this was to remain only between he and I," I say, but in reality I'm not surprised at all. In fact, I'm pretty sure that if he shared something like this with Delphine, it was not voluntarily or even with his knowledge.

Delphine looks straight at me and smiles innocently, and if I had any doubts about my suspicions they disappear. I'm curious as to how she managed to get her hands on this information, but won't ask - it would be useless. Instead I just accept it and move on. It's completely irrelevant how she knows, it won't change anything and there are more pressing issues that I want answers to.

"Have you looked into him?" I ask. "How much have you found out about Mariusz Baczkowski?"

"Not much," she answers and her stance relaxes a little against the back of the chair. "But I knew he was from around here. In fact, I thought that was where you were taking us when I saw where we were headed.

"There's very little record of his early activities," she continues in the calm, clear voice of someone who's sure of what they're talking about. "Which is not exactly surprising since we're talking about some 30 years ago. Also, these sort of people are especially suspicious. They leave as little paper trail as possible, and avoid technology that leave footprints all over the place."

"Which is exactly why we need to go straight to the people," I push my theory again, but she remains impervious, already shaking her head. "There's no way to erase that trail... well... unless they're dead, of course. Killed in some freakish accident or disappeared when they left home to buy a pack of cigarettes or a carton of milk."

"Let's hope not," she chuckles, but I see that my arguments have not persuaded her. "People lie or change their minds, which is why we need to go directly to the source. That was Oskar's mistake, we shouldn't repeat it."

"Okay..." I decide to give her the benefit of the doubt. "What then?"

"As you mentioned, Mariusz is famous around here for all that he's given to his hometown, all the benefit works he's supported, but... there's a little problem with that," she pauses for effect and her smile widens. "He really doesn't have that kind of money. He's nothing but a front man for the Russians, and I suspect that's where the money for all these good deeds comes from.

"Baczkowski has very few things going on for him, but he made good use of them," she continues to explain. "His mother was a Russian emigrant and he speaks the language perfectly. He probably started to work for the Russian mob very young and was scrupulous enough to rise up through the ranks as much as his humble origins allowed him - again this is all speculation, nothing that can be proven. But we can make an educated guess as to how this all started. As a Polish national, it raised very little suspicion when he started to give back to his community, doing the bidding of the Russians. Money laundering, exchange donations for favors with local politicians. Small scale corruption."

"And some not so small," I interrupt. "Our adventure at the hotel never reached the media."

"I know," she says, nodding her head and I notice her features turn darker, her expression hardens as if this is something that bothers her significantly. "And I'm not exactly surprised. They would've hidden Oskar's death if they could have as well. But an execution in the middle of the day, on one of the busiest streets in the city is not as easy to hide as an  _electrical failure_  in an hotel, or some crazy kids doing  _drag races_  in the city in the middle of the night."

"Yes," I agree, my mind working fast, propelled by the information she's giving me. "His death was rather public, very messy. Doesn't seem to be their style at all."

"Of course they could be sending a message with Oskar. The same with Alexei Lebedev, a Russian oligarch with alleged ties to the mafia who was sniped a few weeks back," she comments rather casually and I believe, that while she's making the connection between the two assassinations, she's unaware of my sort of involvement in both situations.

"You think they're connected," I say, because I still need to keep my thoughts to myself, but I won't insult her by pretending I don't know what she's talking about.

"Of course! And so do you," she adds with certainty and I have to smile a little.

"Back to our current problem," I refocus the conversation, "what exactly do you think we should do?"

"Well, there has to be some record of the dealings, property registration, a contract that needs notarizing, these sort of things are public record and can steer us in the right direction," she goes on to explain. "Corporate names, identification of the parties involved. The documents in Oskar's notes could be exactly that."

"So, your plan is to wait for whatever John tells us?" I ask, raising a brow in slight annoyance. "Do nothing."

"Yes, we stay put for now." She nods. "No reason to run around chasing information that we could very well already have."

"Okay, fine." I reluctantly agree. "I just have one last question."

I pause and Delphine looks at me, her expression already shifting, probably predicting that she won't like my next question.

"What's in it for you?" I ask. "I mean... I know why I'm doing it, I'm being payed to track this guy down. What about you?"

She breathes in deeply, calming herself down not to sound too exasperated. "Why do you need to know?" She says. "Isn't it enough for you to know that we're looking for the same thing? We work together to get it, and once we have the information we do with it whatever it is that we want. We stay out of each other's way."

I press my lips together and shake my head a few times. "How do I know that our interests are not conflicting? That once we get what we're after, you're not gonna pull the rug from under me?"

Delphine smiles, she even releases a small chuckle. "You don't," she says matter of factually. "The same way I don't know if when you get back to the States you're not going to out me to Daniel."

I laugh at her choice of words. "I suppose you're not wrong."

Delphine arches her brow and locks her stare on mine. "I guess we're just going to have to trust each other."

John returns to the room a few minutes later, the tension not as overwhelming as it was when he left, but it's still there, remnants in the fringe of our minds. He must sense it still, he has to, but acts like he's unaware of it and simply asks for our help setting the table. During dinner, John informs us that he plans to work on Oskar's notes tomorrow. He doesn't ask what we've decided to do or our plans for the next day, but he implies that if we need to stay in the area for a few more days, his house is open to us.

After dinner, Delphine and I go outside to get my bags from the car and we carry them to the bedroom John has made available to us. The room is quite large and it should have great lighting during the day, coming from the double doors that open to the back of the house and onto a generous porch that surrounds the entire house. The rustic theme is present in the dark wooden decoration, the bed large enough to fit both of us comfortably and then some. Just before he leaves, John tells us that we can use the bathroom at the end of this hall and that he'll be on the other side of the house.

When he leaves, Delphine and I look at each other, for a while not really sure of what to do. Then, I snap out of it and surprise Delphine by going to my luggage and handing her a pair of sweatpants and a large t-shirt, which she takes and gives me a small head nod before walking through the door, presumably to the bathroom. When she returns, I do the same, carrying my pajamas with me and when I get back, Delphine's already in bed, curled on the side, facing the window.

I slip into bed and turn on my side as well, our backs facing each other. Neither of us sleep for a while, but we don't say a word either. I don't know the reasons behind her silence, but I know I'm just too tired to get into any sort of conversation that could become emotionally draining.

I wake up alone in the bed, slightly disoriented for a few seconds, not really knowing where I am, only that something is missing. I turn my head to the side when reality comes back into focus, and see that Delphine's side of the bed is empty, the pillow cold to the touch. The red tip of the cigarette burning when she takes a drag catches my eye and I spot her outside, elbows on the rail of the porch, leaning forward and gazing out into the night.

I search for my hoody on the small couch until I notice Delphine is wrapped up in it, causing my heart to skip. I shake my head and grab my coat instead.

She turns around when she hears the door slid open.

"My sweater will smell like an ashtray," I half-heartedly complain in a low voice.

"I'm sorry. I'll wash it when we'll get back," she says and immediately I feel like something is off. There's no fire in her voice. She sounds defeated somehow, and I'm dismayed by the disparity between this emotion and what she showed not that long ago.

I take a couple of steps and only stop when I'm close enough that she has to look down to look me in the eyes.

"What's wrong?" I have to ask, because that's who I am; regardless of how annoyed I'm with her - and I still am, despite reaching some sort of agreement - I will always care. I learned to accept that a long time ago.

Delphine crushes the cigarette butt on a small plate that's filled with the evidence that she's been up for a while and shrugs. "Nothing," she says in the same tone, "I just can't sleep."

I feel empathy squeeze my heart and swallow the lump growing in my throat. "That's no reason to be outside in the cold."

She gives me a weak smile and nods once. "You're right."

"I am!" I state with determination and smirk.

Delphine's smile widens and she raises a hand to tenderly rest on my cheek, her thumb brushes slowly over my skin. I'm mesmerized by the softness in her brightening eyes, the delicate shape of her lips as her tongue subtly sweeps over them and I forget to breathe. But something snaps in my head when she leans to me and I step back, surprising not only her but myself as well.

"We should go back inside then," I say, clearing my voice.

She frowns, but follows me in and closes the door. Without a word, she steps into the hallway, and I hear water running in the bathroom as I settle once more into the warmth of the bed. When she returns, her steps are light and she closes the door quietly.

When she gets in the bed, she slides up next to me, her arm draping over my stomach and a hand curls around my waist. I shiver and only a fraction of it is due to the coldness of her body lightly pressed against mine.

"I'm sorry," she says and Delphine is so close to me that I can smell the fresh menthol in her breath from the toothpaste.

"About..?" I'm not trying to be a smart ass, I simply can't speak more than one word.

"Earlier... I didn't intend to sound so condescending, I just..." Delphine stops briefly and I feel her take a deep breath against my neck. "I don't play well with others."

"Well, admitting it is the first step," I joke, because I feel the nervousness getting the best of me.

"I guess... I'm still sorry, though."

And I know she is. I might not know much about her anymore - if I ever did - but I know she's not the kind of person who would dim someone else's light just to shine brighter. Mostly because she doesn't need it. She never did.

This is why this time, when she searches for my lips, I give them to her. It's soft, just on the edge of something more and I feel her breath catch against my mouth. The hand on my hip slips beneath my shirt, her fingers gently grazing their way up until they close softly around my breast as I feel her tongue request entry against my lips. However, for the second time, I pull back. My hand finds hers and pushes it away, and I don't even know why. Something makes me stop in confusion, and when that's the case, moving forward is never the answer.

Meanwhile, Delphine is somewhat frozen. Her body is tense, and her breathing is short. And then she's retreating completely, moving herself back until we're no longer touching at all.

"I'm sorry," she repeats and I can hear the strangle in her voice, "I didn't mean to presume." She turns to face away from me as she curls into herself.

I've never denied her, never put the brakes on her advances, but I needed it. It would've felt wrong to go on. Perhaps not while we were doing it, and maybe not even tomorrow or the next day, but I would regret it. I needed to hold my ground, to rearrange the dynamics of our relationship. I need to find some sort of balance in my interactions with Delphine. She may not like it, but this is really not about her; it's about me and being able to maintain the self-worth I've worked so hard to attain. And while I know all this, it still feels like I just lost something.

I've denied Delphine and lost a part of me, but perhaps gained something else.


	30. Assessing The Damage

I wake up late, greeted by yet another gray sky and the bracing cold of the room. Delphine is nowhere to be seen, so I rush to the bathroom and hurriedly run a hot shower. In the big hall, the fire is out, which explains the temperature in the house. On the dinning table, I find an Italian coffee maker, the beverage still hot and I pour a cup, helping myself to what looks freshly baked bread. I slather it with butter, taking a bite with satisfaction, and grab my mug, and decide to glance outside.

I find Delphine on the porch, sitting on the bench next to the front door, cradling a mug of coffee, and wrapped in a blanket I recognize as one of those thrown over the couch. The German Shepherd is laying at her feet, as if guarding her. Delphine's eyes leave a distant point in the horizon to look at me briefly when she senses my presence.

"Good morning," she greets in a low voice.

I move slowly, carefully keeping my distance from the dog and take a seat on the opposite side of the bench. "Morning," I answer. "Where's John?"

"Tending to his chickens," she answers casually, her eyes on the yard and I follow her gaze.

"You're not serious…" I chuckle.

"Very serious," she answers. "He has fully embraced the simple life, even baked the bread this morning."

"Could you?" I ask, my mind still unable to entirely focus on only one thought. "Leave it all behind and live in the middle of nowhere, without a care in the world, other than feeding the chickens and milking the cows," I explain when she raises a brow at me.

She laughs so hard that Zoey raises her head. "I don't think I could ever milk a cow."

I twist my lips. "You know what I mean…"

"Yes, I do." She nods. "But no. I don't think I could. I think it would drive me insane living like this."

"You need the action," I comment and sip at my coffee, watching John exit the small barn, the chickens following him to play in the yard that's been cleared of the snow that had fallen during the night.

"No, not exactly," she responds. "I just don't think I could tune out everything that's happening around me to live peacefully like this."

"Yeah… I think I agree with you," I say. "Running from problems won't make them go away."

She looks at me frowning. "Then why did you ask?"

"Curious," I shrug.

"Yes, that has always been your weakness," Delphine says, her gaze steady upon me, a small smirk on her lips.

"I don't see it as weakness," I disagree in a low voice, looking down into my cup and it's dark liquid. "Quite the opposite, actually."

"Perhaps it could be both," Delphine concedes for a moment, glancing back to our host.

We remain silent for several minutes, watching John work to clean more of the snow from his property, drinking our coffee. Delphine seems withdrawn into her thoughts, while my mind remains confused.

"About last night…" I start without really know how to finish.

"We don't need to discuss it," Delphine interrupts me almost instantly. "I respect your decision and we should leave it at that."

She doesn't give me the opportunity to respond, immediately getting to her feet, and draping the blanket on the bench before walking in John's direction, Zoey following.

I observe her as she approaches the man and talks to him, her hands tucked under her arms, and I have to chuckle to myself at the irony of the situation. How she's guilty of exactly what we were talking about, ignoring our problem, pushing it aside, and not wanting to address it. Soon, this shit will blow over, and I think it would be wise to talk about it before my prediction comes true. Still, I wonder, if she hadn't stopped me, what would I have said?  _So, Delphine, you know, last night… it's not like I wasn't in the mood for it. It just so happens that the signs you give me are really fucking with my head, and I really wasn't sure how to deal with it, but that doesn't mean that I don't want you terribly. So, rain check, yeah?_  Would I really be able to be so honest with her? Probably not. Most likely the conversation would derail somewhere and things would end up worse than they were when we began.

And could we still work together after that talk? Would we really be able to put that aside and move forward? Especially since we have a serious issue with trust and honesty; both of us. Delphine might have chosen the coward's way out, but it was the best decision if we only consider our true purpose here. And honestly, that should really be the only thing in our minds.

Besides, classifying our relationship will open the door to more complex problems, the sort of problems we shouldn't be discussing, because I suspect neither of us wants to further complicate a situation that's already fucked up. Delphine is constantly lying to me by omission, but I'm no better. I keep complaining how I don't know who she is, or what her goal is, or who she's working for, but I'm guilty of the same thing. She doesn't know me, doesn't know my intentions, doesn't know about Ms. S and my partners. Although I'm sure she has her suspicions about me, same as I do about her. We are the same in our deception, and that's where our similarities begin and end. Delphine seems to live much more comfortably with this situation, not asking the questions I know she has. She's much more subtle in her approach, carefully navigating the waters around the answers without asking directly, expecting to catch me off guard at some point. I admire her method; calculating and tactical, a predator carefully observing its prey, not attacking, but patiently waiting for it to fall into the trap laid to catch it.

"What are you smirking at?" Delphine asks when she stops next to me.

"Nothing," I say, shaking my head. "I think you've got another admirer," I comment, gesturing to the dog behind her.

She laughs and bends to pet the dog's black torso. "Zoey has good instincts for humans," Delphine soothes and the dog cocks her ears at hearing her name. "I'm going into town," she informs me, straightening her back.

"Do I get to know why?" I ask with a hint of sarcasm.

"I need clothes if we are staying another night, which seems to be the case. John says it will take him at least a full day to go over Oskar's notes," she explains.

"Oh… Okay," I say nodding. "Do you want me to go with?"

"That won't be necessary," Delphine answers, shaking her head. "I shouldn't take too long and it's better if you stay and get him to work eventually."

I look past Delphine and at the man, who's fully engrossed in his chickens that act like pets, following him around everywhere he goes.

"Do you need me to bring you something?" She asks as if an afterthought, already halfway through the door and peeking her head back at me.

"No, I'm good," I answer and she nods just before disappearing inside.

This time the dog stays outside, her tail wagging slowly, staring at the closed door and then at me with deep brown eyes.

"She'll break your fucking heart," I say to the animal, carefully stretching my hand to brush my fingers over the smooth hair between the ears. "You better trust my word on that."

After a while Delphine comes back out, keys in hand, and in moments, is speeding off the property in our beat up car after John opens the gate for her. Next, the man walks in my direction, eyes on me and an enigmatic smile on his lips. He groans as he bends his knees to sit next to me.

"Quite a curious character that  _bodyguard_ of yours," he comments, stretching his legs forward, the dog finding her space beneath them.

"You tell me…" I mumble, unsure of what he assumes Delphine is to me, but certain that he doesn't seem to mind her presence in his house, however unexpected. "She told me you might take all day to go over the notes," I prompt subtly, not wanting to sound too pressing.

"Yes, maybe a bit longer. I'll know better once I start," John says. "Let me just rest for a little while."

We're silent for a moment, the birdsong and the chickens are all the noise we hear. No people, no traffic, just absolute calmness, and I do understand what has attracted him to this place. But I still fail to see how someone would be satisfied with so little.

"How long have you been living here?" I ask, looking at him.

"Ohh… I'd say about five years," he responds with his stare still ahead.

"Why?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"Why not?" John raises his shoulders looking back at me. "It's quiet, I have everything I need, and there's no one around to piss me off. Other than the occasional visit, like yourself."

"What about your family… friends..?"

"No family," he answers. "And very few friends. As I'm sure you're aware, this line of work isn't the best for your social life," he continues and there's no hint of resentment, as if he has accepted this a long time ago. "Besides, it's not like I never leave here. I do go out and visit some people now and then. I just like to have a place I can return and hide if I want to."

"So not a lot of people know about this place or where to find you?" I watch him get up when I finish my question and wonder if I've pushed too hard. Some people would rather not to discuss their personal life with practical strangers.

"The people I want to find me know how, like Siobhan, for example," he says, opening the door. "C'mon, let's go back inside."

I wait for the dog to follow him and walk inside after the two of them, welcoming the shelter from the wind that's already starting to pick up. Soon it will start to snow again and I hope Delphine's back by then. I do not care for her driving around roads she doesn't know in a car that's the next thing to a death trap.

"I make my house available when people need it," he says, collecting his pipe before he sits on the couch and starting the ritual of lightening it up. "A safehouse of sorts. I don't really get involved anymore though, I don't take sides. I'll help as much as I can as long as it doesn't affect me or my peaceful way of life."

"Is S paying for your hospitality?" I ask; it doesn't seem like John is the kind of person who'd get easily offended.

"I do it as a favor for friends," he answers after a hit of the pipe. "The last few years has seen an increase interest in this area. The Russian mafia has regained some influence after decades where it seemed like it was ready to disappear. This is true especially in Ukraine, and the border is so close that if you're not careful, you'll cross it without even realizing it." He carries on, shifting to prop his feet on the small coffee table in front of the couch, and the dog jumps up to rest her head on his lap. "I do know the service I provide is quite valuable under the present circumstances, but I wouldn't do it for people I don't trust, regardless of any profit from it."

"Because that would attract unwanted attention to your little slice of heaven," I finish his reasoning and he nods.

"When we find something we love, we try to preserve it, protect it," John says, scratching Zoey's head. "It's human nature."

He goes quiet, a contemplative look upon his features as he smokes his pipe and absently runs his free hand through his companion's fur. I feel hesitant about interrupting his thoughts and eventually choose not to. Only when he finishes smoking does he get up, tapping the dog's head, and stretches his back. Moving around the house, John quickly starts a new fire, clears the table, and carries what was left from breakfast to the kitchen. When he returns, he finds the briefcase on the computer desk and goes to the same table, taking a few blank sheets of paper with him and sits on a chair.

I leave him to work and go to the bedroom. Once there I search for my phones. The one I use to contact S is still inside one of the pockets of my coat, and in the other I find the bullets I'd collected from the trunk of our previous car. After staring blankly at them for a few seconds, I leave them on top of the vanity. My other phone, the one I pretend to use, is still inside my luggage, turned off.

The ring tone sounds a few times without answer and I check the hours, thinking it might still be too early in the States.

"Hello?" The voice sounds completely alert when I get my answer.

"Daniel, I'm sorry about calling so early…"

"It's quite alright. I've been up for a while," he wastes no time in cutting me off. "How are things, Cosima? I was starting to worry."

"I've run into some problems," I say, but offer nothing else, wanting to see what he knows.

"I heard about the… incident in Warsaw," he tells me in a somber tone. "It's all over the news about the journalist. Such an awful thing," he comments, but doesn't sound disturbed at all.

More important than his state of mind is the fact that he didn't hesitate to connect Oskar's assassination with the problems I mentioned I was having. Although, he was the one who provided the newspaper clips signed by the murdered journalist, so that's a reasonable explanation for this. He probably knew I would try to get in contact with Oskar and somehow that leaves me feeling more restless about his fate.

"Yes, it's unfortunate," I say in a monotone, not letting him know how I'm feeling or what thoughts are currently crossing my mind. "I figured he would be a good way for me to get in touch with some of Mr. Baczkowski's previous business partners, like we've discussed. But I think I have another way in."

"You never met with him?" He could be fooling me, but he does sound genuinely surprised.

"I was going to meet him later that day… hmm… the day before yesterday." I have to think about it, it seems like so long ago, the events far too many for such short period of time. "I had contacted the newspaper and we were supposed to meet for drinks that night."

Silence on the other end of the line and I know I have to give him something more in order for my story to sound truthful. The longer I remain quiet the worse it will get.

"Right now I'm in the area where Mariusz grew up." I decide to disclose some information, a half-truth. "I figure I should try to interview some people in the area, maybe they'll tell me something that turns me in the right direction. He's fairly known around here from what I hear, and he had to start somewhere, so why not try his birthplace?"

"So, you're no longer in Warsaw," he says.

"Not for the next few days, no." I'm careful with my words. "I plan to return as soon as I'm done here, but it might take me two, three days. I'm not sure."

"Take as long as you need. The work you have here can wait, that cannot!" He says.

"Of course, I don't need to tell you that your suspicions about him are most likely true, given the fate of the journalist." I test him. "If you prefer I could return now and you can make your decision based on that fact alone."

"I want real facts, Cosima, not rumors!" He sounds adamant, as I expected. "I don't care how long it takes for you to find out or what you have to do to get them. Just do it!"

"If that's what you want, I'll get it for you," I answer with determination.

"Very well! Call me if you have something new or need anything," he says, his voice calm again.

I hang up and turn off the phone to keep curious eyes from discovering the call.

There are a few things that don't quite add up. I would be suspicious about Daniel's involvement in the problems I'm having, but that wouldn't make much sense. He probably knew that I would've sought out Oskar, and could have me followed to smoke him out and have him killed. But why would he send a bunch of Russian goons to collect the briefcase? It was already in my possession and I work for him. Why would he have two teams looking out for the same thing and once one of them have it -me, in this case - have the other attack me and try to recover information that he assumed he already has.

The Russians don't work for him, but they do seem to want to work  _with_  him, which is why they approached Daniel in the first place. Perhaps they think Daniel would refuse to work with them if he finds out what he's looking for; something in Baczkowski's past that would tarnish their chances of working with an influential American businessman. Delphine mentioned that she suspects Daniel doesn't know what he's getting himself into, and she's most likely right. The Russians, on the other hand, seem to want it to stay that way.

Of course this opens the door to something that concerns me greatly. It appears that the Russians know I'm here at Daniel's request, not that it would be hard to find out. I'm using his company's credit card to pay for my plane ticket and my stay in the hotel. I better start using cash, but the damage is done. They know I'm here and they're probably tracking the credit card's movements.

My reasoning seems logical and I have very little doubts about my assumptions. What I still haven't figured out is where Delphine fits in in all this. If she's not with the Russians, and she clearly isn't since they didn't seem to hesitate to shoot at her, and her allegiances are not with her fiancé, since he doesn't even know she's here with me, then what? She appears to want access to the same information. She wants to know why Mariusz is interested in doing business with the Websters. But why? Once we get this information, what will she do with it?

Daniel wants to know if it's safe to work with Mariusz. The Russians want Daniel to remain ignorant regarding their connection with Mariusz in order to have access to the American businessman. But what does Delphine want?

I'm stretched out on the bed, contemplating this dilemma, when Delphine comes in, carrying several bags. Her cheeks are flushed and her hair is wild from the wind. She leaves the bags on the side of the bed I left empty, where she slept last night and takes off her coat.

I raise my arms and rest my head on them to look at her. "I called Daniel," I tell her right off the bat and she only hums, going over the bags. "That's it? Huh? No, oh, how's he doing?"

"I'm sure he is fine, I called him a few days ago." From one of the bags she pulls a pair of underwear and from the another a pair of jeans and a black, wool turtleneck. "I need a shower."

"I had to tell him I was no longer in Warsaw," I inform her rather casually.

This time she stops to look hard at me. "You shouldn't have done that."

"If he'd called the hotel looking for me and they told him I haven't been there for days, it would be worse," I say, sitting up and crossing my legs.

"And you told him you were…" She prompts, her eyes still locked on me.

I bite my lower lip, and look at my hands, wrapped around my ankles, but don't answer her.

I hear her take a deep breath. "I hope you know what you're doing, Cosima."

"I didn't give him a specific location," I assure her. "Just told him I was in the area. Searching his past. I had to give him something and it's not a big stretch to assume this would be my next move."

She hums again and leaves the room with clothes in hand. I throw myself back and sigh, not really sure how to take her ambiguous reaction to my news. It's not like I'm in a position of strength, but Delphine seems uninterested in fighting me on this. Although, I won't be fooled, I won't take this as a sign that something has changed. She reacts differently when the subject is her fiancé, always a bit softer, her response almost insipid when compared to other issues.

I hear the shower in the bathroom and get to my feet, shaking Daniel's presence from my mind. I don't want to contemplate the man's existence any more than necessary, which, in a perfect world, would be never.

The small bathroom is already filled with a deep, warm fog when I enter. Delphine, behind the translucent shower stall, stops her movements when she hears me come in, but almost immediately resumes them.

"He also knew about the journalist, and assumed I met him," I continue our conversation, leaning against the glass-doomed linen cabinet.

"Yes, you were rather predictable," she comments.

"Gee, thanks!" I say with an edge.

"I would've done the same though," Delphine admits in a conciliatory way. "He was your only clue."

"So you think Daniel has nothing to do with Oskar's death," I ask and it feels like I'm asking for her approval, somehow. That if she agrees with me I can have a clear conscience.

"You think you're responsible for what happened to the journalist?" Delphine asks in a soft voice, her hands stop massaging the shampoo in her hair.

I'm slightly taken aback to how easily she reads my mind. "If he has someone following me…" I mumble. "It's kinda hard not to think about it."

"He doesn't!" Delphine says with certainty. "You're the only contact he has in here."

"And you know that how?" My voice gains some strength.

"I just do!" She answers emphatically. "Could you pass me a towel, please?"

I turn around, open one of the glass doors and get one of the large, carefully folded towels. Delphine opens a sliver of the shower stall and stretches out one hand where I place the towel. I can see the shape of her body as she towels herself, blurry and undefined, and part of me wonders if the polite thing to do after last night would be to turn around and give her some privacy. She's wrapped within the towel when she fully opens the door, her golden curls limp with the weight of the water dripping onto her naked shoulders and my presence doesn't seem to bother her the least.

"Oskar was a marked man, Cosima," Delphine says, stepping out of the shower, waiting for me to end my visual exploration. "If it wasn't now, it would happen eventually. I'm sure even he knew that. You had no part in it, okay?"

My lips form a thin line as I press them together and nod a few times. Part of me wants to embrace what she's telling me, knows there's truth to it. Oskar was well aware of the danger he was in, he even said as much, and had seemed to accept it. Still, I can't help but feel partially responsible for what happened, and despite my tacit agreement with Delphine's words, I'm not fully convinced.

"Good," she says in a low voice and gives me a small smile. "Now get out of here so I can dress."

"I'm not stopping you." The words come out of my mouth without being filtered by my brain and yet, I'm curious about how they'll be received.

Delphine's bright eyes narrow slightly, but she's smirking. Not at all uncomfortable by my observation. If nothing else, she seems amused.

"Too bad you didn't think like that last night."

I would think she was condemning my actions last night if it weren't for the teasing intonation of her voice, or the way she leans her head closer, her nose brushing against mine. I stretch my neck, but all I get for my effort is a light touch of her lips on mine and she's retreating.

"I understand why you did it, though," she says in a much casual voice.

Her hand reaches pass me to get to the cabinet and I have to move so she can collect a smaller towel to wrap around her hair. I watch her for a few seconds, her movements as easy, as graceful as ever, the towel around her torso slips lower with her motions, but it doesn't seem like it's going anywhere. When I meet Delphine's eyes again, after noticing her pause, she has an arched brow, the hint of a smirk on the corner of her lip. Even so, the only thing she does is move her eyes to the door and then back at me. She will not ask twice for me to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: judging by the decorations already around town and the annoying music in commercial spaces, Christmas is just around the corner... Yay! I have the habit of posting a small cophine story related to the season. So, in the Christmas spirit (or with whichever spirit you celebrate this season), I'm opened to suggestions. If you have a good idea for a short story, hit me up in the comments, reviews or private messages and I'll select one of the prompts or mash a bunch of them together. The winner gets a brownie!


	31. Misleading Deals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it has been quite some time, but it's finally done. I was working on the Xmas special and neggleted all my other stories, so... yeah, if you feel like reading that one, check it out. (Unfortunately, I've had some problems with the update of that one - "Secret Santa" and it did not move to the top of the fandom list, but it's complete and those who are interested can click on my other works to find it)

I'm barely awake. Not entirely conscious, but aware of the comfortable warmth surrounding me. I scoot backwards, seeking the source of the heat, and find it in the long figure pressed to my back. Delphine takes a deep breath that I feel on my neck, and the arm she has around my waist, beneath my shirt, tugs me closer. I groan when I open my eyes and the weak winter sun makes me squint my eyes.

"It can't be morning already," I mumble a complaint in a low, sleepy voice.

"It's not," I hear her behind me. "Go back to sleep," she says and I feel her head pressing against my shoulder blade, her arm tightening its hold around me.

I chuckle dryly, my mind waking up slowly. "I know you're stubborn, Delphine, but not even you can make the sun go back down."

"I'm not stubborn, I'm determined, there's a difference," she corrects me and by the clearness of her voice I can tell she's waking up as well.

I turn around, staying close and smile at her when our eyes meet. I have no idea how we ended up in this position and I can only assume that, during sleep, our bodies simply did what we would not. Maybe it was the harsh cold of the winter night, but it's something that I really don't care to rationalize, especially when it feels so comfortable. Besides, it's not like Delphine seems preoccupied with it; her arm remains around me as I turn, and she shifts one leg to wrap around mine, resting her forehead on my upper chest and sighs.

"Do you think John has made any progress?" I ask in a voice that doesn't seek to disturb our momentary peace.

"There's only one way to find out," Delphine answers without moving.

"Right!" I nod and manage to stretch my back while she holds me. "We need to get up," I say, but make no attempt to get out of the warmth.

It was late when we went to bed last night, able to make a respectable dent in our work. The notes are extensive, and if there's one thing I can say about Oskar's research, is that he was extremely thorough. It seems like every piece of paper that had a single mention of Mariuzs Baczkowski's name was collected by the journalist. We began by identifying the deals that involved any public institution mentioned in Oskar's notes: a couple of Polish ones, some Ukrainian, but mostly Russian. Even so, what we found were only references to legitimate businesses; deals with private companies that exported goods, mainly vegetables and medical supplies to Eastern European countries, part of the former Soviet Union. We also identified some CEO's of said private companies, but these contracts are so old that those people are either no longer in charge or are already dead.

However, because we wanted to cover all our bases, we intentionally left the documents that seemed to be more promising for last. When we started to work on what I accidentally inherited from the journalist, John separated the papers that related to public and private companies from those involving Limited Liability Companies - or LLCs -, which, despite being harder to track down, are more likely to give us a better picture of what we're dealing with. It was close to two in the morning when Delphine and I decided to take our leave, while our host said that he would stay up a bit longer, organizing the papers for today's work.

"What interest could the Webster's organization have in vegetables and medical supplies?" I think aloud while my mind is going over what we'd discovered so far.

"None," Delphine replies. "Recently they've expanded their business into restoring historic buildings and selling them for a massive profit. Daniel's father is a big history enthusiast, or so he claims. But even so, they would import construction materials: steel, aluminum, and wood mostly, nothing that should interest them in this part of the world."

"Except money," I say. "Which some people have in abundance around here. Perhaps a capital investment."

"They don't really need it," Delphine answers, and she's moving, laying on her back and stretching lazily. "The Webster's company is very healthy financially. They have a large portfolio of projects, and are in good position to acquire additional companies in financial distress."

I watch her get up, pulling the covers down on her side of the bed, but it's enough for the cold of the room to seep into the bed.

"Hey!" I protest.

Delphine walks away and looks over her shoulder with a subtle smile when she reaches the shopping bags where she still has her clothes.

"Besides, taking money from the Russians is…well, stupid, and that's something the Websters are not," she continues, ignoring my complaint. "There are always strings attached. The Russians may have money to share, but the source is rarely a legitimate one. That's why the laws are so strict when it comes to American companies being injected with Russian capital."

"You are very well versed in all this for an art gallery worker," I observe with irony.

Her smile falters and she frowns. "I'm going to the bathroom," Delphine announces, heading for the door and taking a change of clothes with her.

When she closes the door I pull the covers over my head and groan. Perhaps it was a mistake to point out her subterfuge, but she can't exactly be surprised that I didn't fall for them - or at least not anymore. Delphine discusses international trade deals like she knows what she's talking about, she's intimately familiar with the Webster's organization even though she's not a part of it, and she's comfortable talking about trading and corporate law. It's blatant that she's no museum worker. An art major wouldn't be equipped with the skills Delphine possesses, would not be comfortable around guns, and would not be familiar with the way the Russian mob maneuvers itself in the criminal world. People like me are, or those who try to fight said criminal organizations.

My train of thought stops abruptly, and once again I'm reminded of what Ms. S has uncovered about Delphine's past, or lack thereof. Yes, people like me delete our past to make it easier to move around, but we're not alone. We're not the only ones who want to infiltrate these organizations to obtain information for our clients for a hefty fee, or sabotage them in favor of a competitor. No, there are those who do it in order to destroy them from within, such as federal and international organizations, or intelligence agencies. Delphine could be a part of them. It would certainly explain how she has access to all the information she does. Either that or she's part of a team like myself. What she definitely is not is a fucking museum keeper.

I'm so lost in thought that I don't hear her enter the bedroom. Only when Delphine tugs the covers down with a quick and unexpected move, exposing my body to the cold, do I notice her.

"Hey! What the fuck?!" I protest again, the cold feels brutal against my warm body.

"Get up! We have work to do!" She says sternly and yet there seems to be a hint of a smile on her lips.

I don't return it. Instead, I observe her with curiosity, still sifting through the thoughts that were on my mind not one minute ago. I struggle to come to terms with the notion while watching her casually search for her phone in her coat pocket. And yet, if I think rationally, ignoring all the preconceptions I have of her, it's the only thing that makes sense. I'm only surprised I didn't see it sooner. And if my suspicions are correct, if Delphine is indeed part of some sort of organization, criminal or otherwise, then it's not only me who's in trouble, but everyone I work with.

"Everything alright?" Delphine asks, tilting her head and looking away from the phone to focus on me.

"Yeah, why wouldn't it be?" I reply with a shrug, my eyes continuing to watch her closely.

She shakes her head, blonde curls still mildly damp for the shower. "Nothing, is just…" she shakes her head again, pocketing the phone. "It looked like you had something on your mind."

"I do occasionally use it," I reply, not disguising my contempt as I get up and move to my luggage.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Delphine studying me with suspicious eyes, following my every move. It could just be that she has noticed my sudden change of mood, it could mean nothing, or it could mean a whole lot. After a few moments of silent observation, she moves to the door but stops, with her hand on the knob, and looks back at me.

She hesitates when I look her way. "I'm heading out," she eventually says.

"Alright," I mumble and turn back to search in my bag.

It takes a few seconds before I hear the door opening and closing quietly, and I sigh as I enter the bathroom, finding it still foggy and permeated with the aroma of Delphine's body wash. I close my eyes and take in a deep, calming, breath, but instead, the smell fills my senses, and causes the small hairs on the back of my neck to rise, and a small shiver to run down my spine. It's an involuntary reaction to Delphine's intimate presence in my life, and I shake my head and will myself to just ignore it, starting my own shower, and forcing my mind to shut down, if only for a moment.

When I return to the bedroom the cold doesn't feel so vicious, my skin warm from the hot shower, and while it's still in my mind, the realization of Delphine's possible identity doesn't seem so overwhelming. Even if my suspicions are correct, nothing has really changed; my goal and priorities are still the same. One problem at a time. Once all this mess is sorted out, I'll focus on Delphine and what she's doing here. At least for now, we appear to be on the same side.

One thing is certain, when it's time to deal with her, I can't do it on my own and it's not because of the relationship I have developed with her - present or past - but because I don't have the means necessary. Besides, it's not only me who's affected by this. S needs to know, and I'm not exactly eager to break the news to her.

Once again, I have breakfast waiting for me, and after eating I go outside. As soon as I pass through the door, the dog's eyes are on me, and after a small hesitation, she comes running in my direction. Her tongue hangs out of her mouth, and her tail wags furiously as she jumps with her front paws landing on my chest.

"Whoa!" I huff, steadying myself to take the blow of the powerful animal, which seems to have decided that I'm trustworthy.

I go to my knees to brush Zoey's muscular body, but my eyes are on the field in front of me. Delphine's on the phone, her free hand holding an unlit cigarette even as she runs her fingers through her curls. She's pacing back and forth, and judging by her expression, she's not happy with the conversation. Her voice only reaches me as a tense murmur, and when she spots me, she turns away, walking even further into the property.

"Yeah, that doesn't seem suspicious at all, right Zoey?" I speak quietly to the dog, giving her a scratch between the ears, before rising to my feet.

The dog follows me when I start to walk towards our host, who seems to be talking with his chickens as he lays some corn on the ground.

"Do they ever answer you?" I ask when I'm close to him.

"In their own way," John answers, looking at me and smiling. "They are very intelligent animals."

"Think they can help us figure out what's going on?" I ask, looking at the chickens surrounding him and waiting for more treats to fall from the small bag in his hand.

John laughs. "They're not that smart."

"Too bad. We could really use the extra help."

"Your generation is so impatient," he says calmly, encouraging the chickens to go back inside their house. "Everything is for yesterday and the world has never moved so fast."

"It's difficult to be patient when time is a bit of an issue," I point out and follow when he walks back to the porch.

"Well, our biggest problem is the LLCs," he says and sits down on the bench by the door with a groan. "They are notorious for being hard to track down the real names. They belong to a company that belongs to several companies and so on. Soon we'll be drowning in so much paperwork that you don't know what's what."

I sit next to him and slump my shoulders with my arms resting on my legs, my eyes tracking to Delphine who seems to have finished her call, and is walking in our direction, stopping on the way to pat the dog that had trotted to her.

"But there's always two sides to the deals, right? It will be easier to track them that way?" I ask in a slightly deflated voice.

"Usually that would be true," John answers. "But governments around here are not exactly known for their transparency. There are certain interests that they are payed to protect, and corruption is rampant in this part of the world."

Frustration starts to build up. "Do you have any good news?"

Delphine reaches us and rests her lower back against the rail of the small, wooden porch, crossing her arms and ankles.

"You have to forgive her, Cosima is infamous for her impatience ," she offers with her eyes on me and a small smile, and I feel a hint of anger that she'd say something like that; not because she's wrong but because she has no right to.

"Ah, we were just addressing this issue," John says with a laugh. "However, she does have a point. The journalist's notes could be a dead end."

Delphine frowns, clearly not happy about what the man just said. "Surely not!" She sounds adamant, stubbornly slicing both her arms through the air. "After all we've been through to get them, there's no way that is true."

"What are you going to do?" I ask twisting my lips and scoff. "Torture them until they tell us something?"

Delphine narrows her eyes, and for a moment I see her annoyance, but she keeps it contained. "If those notes were a dead end then why would anyone bother to murder someone for it. Why send a team of mercenaries after you to get it," she reasons with a cold voice. "No! There's something in there that they don't want us to know," she finishes, her right hand aiming at the house where the papers are.

"She's right!" John nods his head, a contemplative look on his face. "They - whoever they are - have gone to too much trouble for it to be nothing. There has to be something they don't want people to know."

"It's hard to find something when you don't know what you're looking for," I say. And I know I sound unusually pessimistic, but I'm tired of not knowing what the hell is going on around me.

"So we should just give up?!" Delphine retorts, her frustration gaining momentum. "The answer is not in front of our eyes so fuck it, let's quit? Is that what you're suggesting?"

"I didn't say that!" I say, sounding entirely too defensive.

"Good! Then I guess we need to get back to work!" Delphine nods her head once and, as if she needed to appear even more decided, she goes to the door and holds it open, with her eyes locked on us until we get up.

Our host looks at me with an amused smile. "I guess we better do what she says," he whispers with a chuckle.

I'm passing through the door after him when I feel Delphine's fingers wrap around my wrist. "What's wrong with you today?" She asks in a low tone, her eyes pinned on me, a concerned frown in her expression. "It doesn't seem like you to just give up so quickly."

"Perhaps you don't know me as well as you think," I reply with an edge and try to free my hand.

She holds on for a few seconds, her eyes searching my face, but eventually she releases me with a sigh and a shake of her head.

While we work, I feel Delphine's eyes on me, and I notice her concern growing with the passing of time, but do nothing to ease it. My attention is divided between what we're doing and Delphine. I observe her as closely as she does me, trying to figure out how close I am to the truth about who she really is, whose interests she represents.

Meanwhile, she continues to show her knowledge about international relationships that, had she been who she claims to be, she shouldn't have. Delphine's no longer pretending to be clueless. Perhaps my observation this morning has triggered it, or maybe she just gave up. Or, perhaps the frustration is getting to her as well. Tired of steering us in the right direction, Delphine seems to be guiding us by the hand, no longer teasing with hints and clues for me to follow, but pointing out where to look. When there's a particular document she thinks we should take a closer look, she sets it aside, with John's agreement and we investigate further. How she has come to be so knowledgeable, I've no clue, nor am I in the mood to ask - at least, not yet. For the moment, I'm thankful that she has decided to make my job easier, even if I suspect it's for her benefit as well.

Despite all of us working together, it's not until late afternoon that we have a breakthrough. Surprisingly, it comes when we are analyzing the documentations Oskar collected regarding deals involving LLCs and foreign countries. This type of corporate organization has grown exponentially in the last decade throughout the Russian Federation. The absence of personal liability, the privacy it offers to its shareholders, and the lack of audits are extremely appealing. According to John and Delphine, they have disseminated in the corporate world like weeds, so much so that it's not uncommon for one LLC to own another.

Baczkowski's name is all over the place as a shareholder in several of these companies, but, as both John and Delphine are quick to point out, he can simply be representing someone else whose name remains undisclosed. All this is legal and not exactly unusual. As John predicted we're lost in a web that connects all these companies. Sometimes, the connection is clear, same shareholders or even with the main office in the same building. But in other circumstances, that connection is vague at best, companies that have done businesses with an entity in common in a short span of time. However, one in particular has caught Delphine's attention.

This LLC is solely in Mariusz Baczkowski's name, but this is a recent change. Nearly two months ago he shared this position with Alexei Lebedev, who recently has found himself with a bullet in his head. Three months before his untimely departure, Alexei, along with Mariuzs, as representatives of their Polish based company dedicated to the export of vegetables, signed a contract to supply the Republic of Sudan for the duration of one year in exchange for the amount of 124 million euros, to be paid in 12 monthly installments.

"That's a lot of vegetables," I comment as John translates the content of the contract for us.

"No one doubts that they could certainly use it," Delphine says, her eyes steady on the man and disregarding the computer screen in front of her. "Although I suspect that's not exactly what they were supplying the Sudan nation with."

"No, it wouldn't be," John agrees, getting up from the table and reaching for his pipe. "There's no money in vegetables exports, not like there is in say… weapons deals."

"Too bad Sudan is under an arms embargo," Delphine says ironically.

"Whoa! Hold on!" I raise my hands to try to slow them down. "Are you implying that they are smuggling weapons into Sudan."

"It is more than an implication," Delphine looks at me with a serious expression. "Although I don't know if this deal will be consummated, since Lebedev is no longer among the living."

"Mariusz is. I'm sure he, or whoever he's working for, will still want that 124 million," I say.

Delphine's shaking her head. "It won't make a difference because I don't think he can make good with his part of the bargain," she explains. "Alexei was the one with the connections to one of the biggest privately owned weapons' manufacturing company in Russia."

"What sort of connection?" I ask, trying to organize my thoughts.

Delphine gets up from the computer, making it obvious that the information she's giving me is something she knows off the top of her head. Delphine has done her homework regarding the recently murdered billionaire. She's calm, reaching for her coat that she dropped over the couch where I'm sitting, and removes one cigarette from the pack inside the pocket.

"He was one of the main shareholders, for instance," Delphine says with certainty.

Was Ms. S aware of this? That would explain why she reacted the way she did at the mention of Baczkowski. I had no idea of the connection between Mariuzs and Alexei, nor was I briefed on Alexei Lebedev's file. He was Sarah's target, not mine; there was no reason for me to know this sort of things. Still, I wish Siobhan had given me a heads up about this and I can't imagine why she didn't.

"But not Mariuzs," I make sure.

"No, Baczkowski has no relation with them, never did, as far as I'm aware," Delphine's assertive. "But that may not mean a lot. Like we discussed, he could be just representing someone else, in fact, I'm pretty sure this is the case. And whoever this person or group of people are, they could've interests in the arms deals."

"But you don't think so," I deduce.

"I think it would be highly unusual if that was the case; they already had a weapons' guy," she explains.

"Right," I agree, nodding and looking at John who's quietly listening. "But we still don't know who it is that he's representing, nor do we have a way to find out," I add, starting to feel the frustration again.

"Correct on both accounts," Delphine says casually, her hand gesturing to John to borrow her the lighter that she used to light up her cigarette.

The rest of the day, we go over the last of Oskar's documents, but it's fruitless. That was the only thing we could remotely use to tie the Polish businessman to shady deals and even that lacks hard evidence. It's solely based on rational deductions, but it's speculation nonetheless. That realization weighs heavily on the three of us and we are left deflated.

When we finish, it's too late to get back on the road, and Delphine and I readily accept John's invitation to stay one last night.

Delphine is smoking one last cigarette before bed when I return after changing into my sleeping clothes in the bathroom. The sky is clear and the moonlight reflects on the snow illuminating her features while she expels the smoke through the open door that leads directly outside.

"Do you think I should tell Daniel what we found out?" I ask quietly, shutting the bedroom door and sitting on the edge of the bed.

"That's what you're here for, right?" She answers, turning to look at me.

"After I tell him, he could decide that it's a good idea for me to go to Sudan," I say grimly, not enjoying the possibility. "Then again, the African heat might be a nice change after so much cold," I add dryly.

"In that case you should tell him to fuck off," she suggests to my surprise. "Mariuzs is as dirty as they come. If, after he learns what we discovered here, Daniel's still not convinced of that, then he has no intention to stop doing business with him." Delphine take one last drag of the cigarette and goes outside to crush it on the plate that has served as an ashtray, shutting the door after her. "Of course Daniel already knew this."

I watch her approach the bed and lift the pillow beneath which she has the sweatpants and tank top she used to sleep in.

"Then why send me here?" I ask.

"To see if it was possible to find out anything," Delphine offers her opinion. "If you'd returned empty-handed, he'd be more comfortable doing this deal with Mariuzs, knowing that after you've gone to great lengths to discover some dirt, you found nothing."

She goes to the bathroom, leaving me alone to mull it over. Delphine's probably right, but if Daniel has used me to test how well Mariuzs is able to cover his tracks, what does it mean? What sort of business is my current employer interested in doing if this is a priority?

I ask Delphine this when she returns. "One thing America doesn't need is more guns," I observe.

"Who needs more of those?" She comments distractedly while she props her pillows and sits on the bed. "But I don't think that's it," Delphine replies after thinking for a few seconds, resting comfortably against the pillows and looking at me. "Alexei was the one with the connections to the weapons' industry and we don't know what the person Mariuzs' representing was bringing to the table. Maybe it was transportation, but we don't know it for a fact. We don't even know if he's representing the same person, for that matter."

"Why do you think it was transportation?" I ask, slipping into bed when she opens the covers on my side, inviting me in.

"If they were indeed smuggling guns, there are two things that needed to be taken care of," she says, raising two fingers. "The guns themselves, obviously," Delphine explains, lowering one finger, "and the way to get them there, and that means more than just a boat to carry them. It also means contacts in the right places, bribes to the right people - government officials, costumes personal. If they are also in charge of distribution then there's even more people involved. Although usually that responsibility falls with the locals," she continues in a calm, steady voice.

"Trafficking weapons - or any kind of trafficking, really - is a complex business, that puts money in a lot of pockets. It requires manpower, connections and a great deal of organization."

"Alright," I say, nodding my head, keeping up with her logic. "Let's say Mariuzs is still representing the same person or group of people, and that they are, in fact, the ones in charge of the whole transportation part of the deal."

"That's pure speculation!" Delphine interrupts me.

"I know! Let me finish!" I move my hand dismissively. "If we find out who is the unknown in this deal, provided there is someone else, we may have an idea of what's going on."

Delphine raises a brow. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think that's what Daniel's paying you for."

I smirk. "Yes, but I'm a very curious person."

She shakes her head, but is smiling. "Okay, in theory what you're saying would be correct, but we don't know if that's the case," she agrees with me while at the same time reminding me I have no tangible proof. "Besides, how are you going to find out who's the other hypothetical partner in this deal with Daniel?"

"There are probably not many volunteers after what happened to the last one," I voice my thoughts. "You think the two are connected?"

"I don't know," Delphine shakes her head again, but has become serious. "But I'm sure it's something that will be on other people's mind, same as you."

If the two are, in fact, connected, then I very much doubt it's a coincidence that Ms. S was given this job. And if my assumption is right, then someone is playing us, giving us the runaround. Sarah's botched mission may not have been an accident, especially if we consider that both jobs were given by the same client, a Mr. Y and this is another link. Too many connections, too many points where the two missions meet for it to be a coincidence.

"What are you thinking?" Delphine's voice brings me back to the present.

I look at her and she's staring at me with curious eyes. "I'm thinking that now would be the part where I ask you how you know all this," I reply, obviously not inclined to share my thoughts with her.

Delphine presses her lips and stretches her arm to turn off the bedside lamp. "Yes, I'd say this would be the time for that," she says, pulling the covers to her chin and turning on her side to face me.

"Your pillow talk sucks," I comment in a low voice onto the darkness, laying next to her.

She stifles a laugh. "I know," Delphine says, her hand slipping under my shirt and pulling me closer and I don't resist it.

I don't need her to tell me; I know the answer. I just don't like it.


	32. And So It Is...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: okay, this is the last chapter of the "past". I wasn't sure where I could put it, but I figured this is a nice placement. We can now focus on the main plot.  
> Once again, thanks to my beta for doing a great job.

Heavy clouds cast a dark shadow over me everywhere I went; days on end when I couldn't see a glimpse of light. I was a ghost of myself, wandering the halls and attending classes, a spirit devoid of strength, of emotion. I felt numb. I avoided people, human interaction of any kind, incapable of any sort of empathy. I, myself, was becoming a shadow.

Few people would notice the difference, only my friend Scott was able to see the change, and while today I can see that he was only trying to be a good friend, to bring me back to the world of the living, I'm ashamed to admit that I was horrible to him. As if he were also to blame for the state I was in, despite his numerous warnings, he too was cast aside. If I had any anger left in me, he would've been a victim of it. But even anger was absent. Instead I dismissed his worries, scoffed at his words of comfort, demanded to be left alone in my misery even when he persisted to stick around despite my rudeness.

My grades plummeted, and by the end of the second semester of my senior year, my entire academic career until that moment would be completely worthless, shattered by the actions of a few weeks. I was called to the administration office several times, the dramatic fall of my grades alarming, but I heard nothing. Their voices echoed, as if I was underwater, and I only nodded along, pretending to hear, when in fact, nothing registered. Eventually they told me that they would allow me to finish the year for the sake of my previous work, but that was all.

I could be cynical and say all this was to blame on only one person: Delphine, but even I knew that was not true. While she was partially responsible for it, she was not alone. Some of it, perhaps most was my own fault for not being able to deal with it in a more mature way. My life shouldn't be over just because of unrequited love; I should have more to expect from life than being with someone else, more so if that someone didn't want to be with me. I should've asked for more than that, should've been able to move on with my life and worked to put that place behind me along with all the memories that it held.

This is all true and, even if I saw it then on some level, I couldn't let go. I allowed that rejection to be the center of my existence, held hostage by a situation I had no control over. I allowed that weakness to take hold of me, embraced the darkness that it caused, and let it guide my every action since. If there was any anger left in me, it was not directed at my friend who was only trying to help me and it wasn't even towards Delphine, whose actions while censurable were not exactly unpredictable, considering what had led us to that moment. If I could be angry it was at myself, for not being as strong as I pretended to be.

My weakness was at its finest when I caught a glimpse of Delphine. Although I did my best to avoid her, it was impossible to do so, we did have classes together after all and the school was not that big. She had wasted little time getting a new boyfriend, in a bid to assert herself as one of the  _normals_ , no doubt, with very public displays of affection for everyone to see. I have no idea what she said to her  _friends_  in order to brush off what had happened between us, perhaps she said I was making stuff up, the crazy delusional lesbo. Whatever it was, I'm sure it wasn't that hard to sell. Delphine is a master at persuasion, and who would believe she wanted something to do with me anyway.

During that dark period of my life only one thing kept me going.

It was a tremendous advantage that my roommate didn't particularly care about me and was happy I stayed away from her. It was easy to find out where she hid her cell phone and she was stupid enough to have it always on, buzzing non stop inside one of her drawers, lest she miss an important text or call. To this day it still surprises me that she never caught on that I was using it to get in touch with my only contact with the outside world, where I could leave all of my troubles behind.

I acquired the habit of sneaking out to meet Lucy whenever she was in town, no matter what day it was. With the unknown cooperation of my roommate, who, in her desire to keep me away, never said a word to anyone about my middle of the night escapades, I managed to break curfew. It was too easy to reach the outside, and once there, I used the protection of the night, to reach an area of the school grounds where the trees were right next to the wall. Scaling the tree, and onto an overhanging branch, I'd find Lucy waiting in the car on the road that surrounded the property.

We never went too far. Sometimes she would drive us back to the coffee house where we met and enjoy an hot chocolate, or when winter started to fade and the nights were not so unforgivingly cold, she would drive us to an isolated area, overlooking the small town and we would share a smoke. We talked about anything that came to mind. She was keen on discussing her latest literary discovery and mostly, I would listen, adding a book to a list that until this day exists but it's far from being read in its entirety. When she asked, I talked about what was discussed in classes, with annoyance and boredom, but I would answer nonetheless. What we never talked about was the future, it was as if we were frozen in time and the present was all that matter. I'm sure this was not accidental, she must have sensed from the beginning that this was what I needed and Lucy had the foresight to make it so.

I loved talking with Lucy. She was smart and engaging, with a dark sense of humor that to some people might've been marginally offensive. She was understanding and helpful when needed, but never judgmental, and she wasn't fond of offering unwanted advice like so many people I've encountered throughout my life. Yes, she was great, but that's not why I was always so eager to meet her. The truth is, it was only when I was with her and away from the walls of the school that have become oppressive to me, that I felt like myself again. Only then did the heavy clouds lift, no longer casting a shadow over my thoughts. I was again able to smile, laugh, feel.

I knew the day would come when I had to tell her my story, but when that day arrived, it wasn't something she pried out of me. Instead it was me who decided to offer her my tale. Lucy listened in silence, with her eyes on me as I was talking, sitting on the hood of the car with my stare in the distant lights of the sleeping town.

"You still like her," was what she said when I was finally done.

"I do," I admitted in a quiet voice. "But I don't know why."

She gave me a small smile. "And I doubt you ever will."

"Geez, that's encouraging," I said with a hint of humor.

And it was like the heavy weight that has been pressed to my chest was suddenly lifted. I suppose that's why people enjoy confession, speaking of our concerns out loud is incredibly liberating. It's out there, in the world, and having someone else to share the burden makes it less powerful, less consuming. Even if Lucy could do nothing herself to change how I felt about it, it didn't make it less reassuring.

She continued to look at me with sympathetic eyes, not as if she was feeling sorry for me, but as if she was familiar with my situation. "I know…" Lucy said with a little chuckle. "I wish I had some pearls of wisdom to offer."

"You could at least tell me that it will get better with time," I bargained for some sort of improvement.

"You're a smart girl, Cosima," Lucy said, moving around and leaning into the car through the open window to reach the glove box and getting a previously rolled joint. "You don't need me to coax you into feeling better, you'll get there by yourself."

I watched her scoot back onto the hood of the car, settling close to me, her arm brushing against my shoulder as she shifted and brought the joint to her lips, lighting it. She took a generous drag before extending it my way, and we smoked in silence for a few minutes, out eyes below us on the dim lights of the town while a mist fell around us.

When spring break came it felt like the worst had passed. My school performance was steadily increasing the more I felt like myself again, and I was slowly getting back on track. The anomaly lasted a little over a month and although my heart still clenched tightly at the sight of Delphine, my life didn't seem like such a deep pit of misery. In fact, after a while, even though the gut wrenching feeling was still there, seeing Delphine with her new pet only gave me a new perspective in life, renewed energy to carry on. But mostly I realized one thing: I wanted out. I was ready to leave all that behind, forget what I could, and use what I couldn't as a lesson to take with me when I left.

No stranger to this different perspective was Lucy. After I told her everything, she never once brought it up again. In my time with her, my past counted for nothing, and when I was ready to talk about my future again, she was there to help me, offering guidance and support. It was refreshing to have someone by my side who asked for nothing in return.

Our relationship grew naturally, gradually. It wasn't an instant infatuation that came out of nowhere, like it happened with Delphine; it wasn't as intense either, but it was nice and comfortable. When she kissed me for the first time, it wasn't earth shattering, but it felt right; when she held me it didn't felt like I was being enfolded in blazing inferno, but it felt warm and safe. Unsurprisingly, Lucy was much more experienced, much more skilled than Delphine. She also didn't retreat when I tried to move things further, my hands were free to roam and explore wherever I wanted. And although I wasn't entirely guided by an urgent desire, I did wish to explore every single inch of her, curious about what was ahead and finding myself pleasantly surprised when there were no barriers to my exploration, no lines I could not cross. Her own touches were bold, her caresses not tentative but laced with craving that even I, in my little experience, could easily read. Still, I think the best part of it all was to feel wanted, unafraid that my advances would be met with rejection.

Yes, Lucy made me feel wanted, desired and when, right at the end of spring break, she invited me to spend the night at her place, with her parents being out, I did not hesitate to accept. I knew what was on her mind. Unlike Delphine, Lucy was an open book, written in a language that was uncomplicated, no enigmas or cryptic messages that I struggled to decipher. After all I'd been through, there was an incredible appeal to her simplicity, her honesty, and I was attracted to the uncomplicated way she saw our relationship.

With the school practically deserted, it was almost too easy for me to leave undetected under the cover of night. Filled with nervous energy, I escaped the school grounds and met her outside, in the same place we've met several times before.

"You ready?" She asked once I shut the car's door and I knew that it was a question that meant something beyond those two words.

I nodded and smiled, the nervousness still present, but melting away rapidly at the sight of her. "Yep! Let's go!" I said determined.

There was a certain awkwardness between us when we got to her house, suddenly I didn't know what to do with myself, even just removing my coat seemed like an impossible task. Lucy approached me, smiling a little and helped me with that simple endeavor.

"Sorry," I said with a nervous chuckle. "I'm usually a lot smoother than this."

Her smile grew and she leaned her head forward to reach my lips. "It's okay to be nervous," she assured me while her arms embraced me and pulled me closer. "But I promise to take good care of you," Lucy said with a subtle wink.

She delivered.

There was no hurry to her movements when she tugged my shirt up and over my head. Her lips were slowly but surely covering me with tender kisses; soft, full flesh skimming over my shoulder, my lips, my neck. I was so focused on those touches, that I didn't even realize she had me completely bare from the waist up in a matter of minutes. Only when her hands left the back of my neck and moved to my torso did I noticed it. She enticed me, my body quickly becoming addicted to her teasing, seeking more. Lucy was patient, she waited for me to feel comfortable with the feel of her hands against my skin, unobstructed by layers of clothes like before, although she didn't need to wait long.

Soon, I was the one tugging at her clothes, feeling warm, smooth skin beneath the pads of my fingers. My hands moved to her chest, still covered by the fabric of her bra, to which she smiled, and after gently encouraging me to sit on the edge of the bed, she removed it herself. My eyes left the dark pools of her eyes, traveling lower and I swallowed thickly. Butterflies filled the pit of my stomach, and all the nerves were being erased by a deep yearning that only grew when Lucy decided, with a smile on her plump lips, to remove her faded jeans.

Ironically, I was the one who was growing impatient. I was the one who grasped her hips and pulled her to me in a sudden burst of bravery, and made her lay on the bed as I crawled up her body, drawing a surprised gasp. I was insatiable; my hands stroked every curve of her body, and my mouth reached every inch of skin that I was eager to taste, even if I wasn't sure of what I was doing or if I was doing it right. The unquenchable desire had finally kicked in and it was guiding my movements, curious about the reaction I would get from my touch upon her body.

I only stopped when I felt her thigh slipping between my legs and push up against me. In that moment I froze, my back arched, and a new, unfamiliar sound made its way out from the back of my throat.

"Is this okay?" Lucy asked, her leg lowered as her gaze filled with concern.

"Yes, yes!" I said readily, nodding vigorously, feeling my body complaining from the loss of contact. "It's just… you know… new…" I stumbled on my words.

She hummed, raising her thigh again and smiling at my reaction, her fingertips rolling over my hips. "It'll be better if you lose those pants," she suggested in an husky voice.

I laughed and looked down our bodies, watching the fingertips of her right hand skim along the skin of my lower abdomen, causing my hips to involuntarily jerk, before they sunk under the waist of my pants. "I think you're right," I replied hoarsely, my eyes going to hers.

Lucy took it as a go-ahead, and my eyes went back down, watching as she unbuttoned my pants and pulled them down my hips.

From there she took over. Lucy spun us around and finished divesting me of my jeans. There was certainty in her movements as her touch descended steadily, the palms of her hands firm against my skin. Strong, yet gentle fingers caressed the curves of my body, tugging tightly at the curves of my hips while her mouth was making its own journey south, over my collarbone, my breasts. She continued to show patience with me, giving my body time to get used to a new kind of stimulation whenever her hands reached new ground, easily picking up my cues and moving forward when I was ready for it.

My nerves were completely forgotten when her touch reached between my legs, gently at first, watching me attentively, and taking notice of my every reaction. It took me wrapping my legs around her waist for her to feel comfortable enough to be more firm, for the tip of her fingers to roll freely over me, while she wore the most charming smile on her lips. After a moment, Lucy's mouth was kissing me all over, with my hands on the back of her neck, I encountered her exploration, panting heavily, testing my voice as I groaned deeply, feeling an unfamiliar pressure beneath my belly, which only seemed to grow and spread throughout my entire body. My hips surged, meeting her touch in urgent motions, and I no longer seemed in control of my body. My lungs were starving for air no matter how deep my breathing was, and suddenly, unexpectedly, it all came crashing down, the pressure released abruptly as a long moan escaped my lips and my entire body was trembling.

After that there was silence; tranquility as a sense of relief I've never experienced before came over me. My body was completely loose, the weight of Lucy's body over mine, anchoring me to the world, as if it were the only thing keeping me from floating away. I heard her chuckle, and felt the warmth of her breath over the skin of my neck that she continued to shower with kisses.

I sighed when she pulled away, my hands blindly search for her and only finding her when Lucy moved back up, bringing the comforter with her to cover our bodies. She laid on her side next to me, her fingertips running along the overheated skin of my torso.

"I think that went well," she said quietly with a small laugh.

My own laugh was much louder. "Yeah, quite nicely," I answered, my hand reaching her arm and pulling it around me tighter.

"I want you to know that I'm not expecting anything in return, Cosima," Lucy's low voice came to me after a moment of silence.

I opened my eyes and looked at her with a frown. "What do you mean?" I asked confused.

"You know exactly what I mean," she said, but she wasn't severe as much as she was just pointing out the obvious. "I know that what we have… well, it's not love," she proceeded to explain in a soft voice. "We understand each other, there's definitely a connection and I know you like me a lot, but…"

"Lucy…" I stopped her and took a deep breath. "We work. Maybe you're right, but this," my hand swayed between the two of us, "it works."

"Your first time should've been with someone that more than just  _works_." She didn't sound judgmental, if anything, Lucy sounded slightly sad.

"My first time should've been with someone I care about and who cares about me," I corrected her, my hand grabbing at her arm more firmly. "And look! It is! I have no regrets whatsoever."

"Alright, then!" Lucy said, finally convinced. "In that case, let me get you some water." She changed the subject to a direction I didn't see coming and got up, stretching her spine with a pleased groan.

Confused, I watched her walk out of the room without another word. "I'm not really thirsty!" I called out loud enough for her to hear me.

Lucy didn't answer me and in a couple of minutes she was returning to the bedroom, two glasses filled with water in hand. She was smiling as she gave me one and I took it just so she could sit back on the bed without spilling it. I continued to observe her with an arched eyebrow while Lucy drank half of the content of her glass. Next she leaned over me, resting the glass on the nightstand on my side and ending up on top of me in the process.

"Go on!" She encouraged, her dark brown eyes on the glass in my hands, adjusting the ponytail of her long, dark hair. "It's important to stay hydrated. I have a few more things to show you," she added as her smile got wider and playful.

"Oh…" I breathed out and brought the glass to my lips, happy to comply.

We didn't exactly sleep that night, although there were moments of calmness that we used to regain energy. I was an eager student, and Lucy an attentive teacher. When dawn broke and the rising sun slipped through the shutters, I doubt there was a part of her body I wasn't familiar with. Despite my inexperience there really was not a moment of awkwardness, and I never felt overwhelmed during my exploration, not with Lucy's constant reassurance. She was caring and understanding, she showed me the ropes and guided my hand, sometimes quite literally.

Lucy taught me how to love the female body and that is a gift I'll always be thankful for. No, it wasn't love, but her experience and my eagerness to learn made up for it. For years we kept in touch, and while our relationship wasn't always intimate, Lucy was the one thing I made sure to retain from that time of my life. It's not difficult to see why: she was such a separate part from everything else, something I could remember without feeling the sudden ache in my heart that snuck up on me whenever a stubborn memory resurfaced.

The only thing that made me return so early was the fear of getting caught if I didn't show up in the cafeteria for breakfast. Ironically, sneaking in was much harder than escape, not having the darkness of the night on my side. I always climbed onto the roof of Lucy's car to reach the top of the wall and jump back inside. My eyes scanning the area carefully, my ears alert for any sound, but aside from the early song of the birds and a squirrel running for hide, I hear and saw nothing. Once inside the dorm I knew I was safe, if anyone saw me I could simply claim I had gotten up early. Still, I saw no one, but in the cafeteria I heard people talking, the clanging of dishes and silverware as they got everything ready for breakfast. I quickly made my way up to my room, thinking I could really use a shower before I came back down. The door was shut, just as I left it, there were no signs that my escape had been noticed. I opened the door quietly, slipped inside and shut it just as softly.

"You're up early."

The voice made me stop, still facing the door that I'd just closed.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, still without turning around and feeling already an anger bubbling in my chest.

"I wanted to talk," Delphine answered, her eyes narrowing in my direction and looking me over once I spun around to face her. "I came back early so we could…"

"Talk!" I interrupted rudely. "Yeah, yeah, so you've said," I waved an arm, dismissing her and going to one of my drawers to get clean clothes.

"Yes, I…" she hesitated, he eyes following me as I moved around the room. "I didn't like the way we left things."

"Oh… you didn't like how you belittled me in front of your awesome friends? I'm really sorry to hear it. What can I do to help you, Delphine? I just can't wait to lay myself at your feet and wait for you to walk all over me," I was speaking rapidly, my anger quickly evolving into bitterness, and when I finally stopped, I stared angrily at her, challenging her to continue.

"It's… it's not like that," Delphine says defensively, clearly caught off guard by my ire.

"Oh shit! My bad," I joked darkly, bringing a hand to my chest in a mocked apology. "Then tell me how is it. Why don't you tell me why you waited almost two months to talk to me?" I kept glaring at her and she did manage to hold my gaze for a few long seconds before she folded and lowered her head. "Oh… that's right! We're alone now, your reputation is safe this way," I continued, unrelenting.

Delphine didn't reply and after a few more seconds, I turned away and walked to the side of my closet, where my bath towel was hanging from a hook.

"You just got back." Delphine wasn't asking, she said it with a note of surprise, as if she was only then realizing it.

"Yeah, so?"

I know I shouldn't care, but it was impossible to ignore the dark satisfaction it gave me to see her work out in her head the implications of what she had just learned. There was a shift in her features, a clench of her jaw, and a darkening in her eyes that Delphine let slip before she moved to the window. I didn't do it because of her. It's true that I couldn't say she didn't cross my mind the previous night, but that was not my motivation. I didn't even expect her to find out about it, I didn't want her to, but knowing that she had and seeing her reaction, I felt somewhat vindicated.

Without saying anything else I left the room and headed to the bathroom, where I took my time, fully expecting her to have left when I returned. But I was wrong. Despite my words, Delphine was still there, still gazing out the window, unmoving even as I shut the door a little more forcefully than needed.

"You're still here," I commented in an annoyed voice.

"I said I wanted to talk with you," she repeated her request, but I could sense her patience running low.

"Yeah? Well I don't want to hear what you have to say," I said curtly, without a hint of resentment.

It was impossible to show any sort of understanding. Almost two months had passed since she said what she did in front of everyone else, but it might as well have been the day before. The wounds were still fresh, the bleeding had barely stopped, but enough time had passed for me to realize one very important thing: if I listened to whatever contrived excuse she had concocted, I was still not strong enough to see clearly through her lies.

"You're…" Delphine paused, staring at me with a curious tilt of her head, "... different."

I snorted. "Yeah, I am." I admitted. "I finally realized what kind of person you are."

A quiet fury danced in her golden eyes, the part of her that was obviously not enjoying this line of conversation was coming out. "And what kind of person am I?" The challenge in her voice was unmistakable.

"Manipulative, selfish," I didn't hesitate. "The kind of person who uses other people until they get what they want and then discard them."

When I finished Delphine looked like she was smiling, but it was nothing more than a cold stretch of her lips, in her eyes a pyre burned. "And what could I possible have wanted from you?"

"Fuck if I know!" I replied, unwilling to try to make sense of her motivations.

Delphine shook her head, her jawbone tense, her fists closed along her body. "When you do find out, Cosima, come look for me and maybe then we can have that talk."

She didn't wait for my answer, choosing instead to walk to the door, open it with a violent tug and took her leave. I got to the door that she left open, watching her walk down the hall with purpose.

"Yeah, you better take a fucking seat, Delphine, cause you'll be waiting for a very long time!" I said loudly, knowing that she heard me even if her steps didn't falter.

Finally I was angry. Truly and absolutely wrathful. In mere minutes, Delphine was able to take my thoughts hostage, my mind kept replying our latest conversation - if one could call it that. I hated her then more than I'd hated anyone before or since. And yet, I knew it wouldn't last; no one can hate that much for too long. But that day it was all I could see, and I was blinded, unable to think rationally.

And that was it; the only explanation I could find as I was packing my pitiful belongings, for acting so brainless; well, that and the rain. Did I really think I wouldn't get caught? I had barely lit up, only on my second toke when Sister Martha's head poked between the benches looking furiously at me. She escorted me to my bedroom, after a small stop at the administration's office for one last talk. I was over 18, and they were a private institution with high moral standards. I was no longer their responsibility, not after breaking so many of their rules, not when my grades didn't justify their continuing trust in me.

They made sure I was definitely out, escorting me to the heavy, forged iron gate. I watched as it closed, looking back one last time at the massive building, not sad, but there was a fear in me. My life never looked good, but this… this was a whole new level of depressing.

I took a deep breath and went to reach for my bag, laid carelessly at my feet and turned my back on the gate.

"What are you going to do now, chicken?"


	33. Memory Lane

The ride back to Warsaw is long, and once again, the slippery ice covering the road doesn't help. At least this time, Delphine's at the wheel, which allows me to rest during the trip.

I had a restless night. Although I did sleep, when I woke, with my body wrapped on Delphine's once more, I still felt tired. Dreams plagued me all night long - or it felt like it. We were back in boarding school, covered in a white sheet of snow, but no longer teens; adults, as we are now. Daniel was there for some reason, as well as Sarah and Felix, and when I was called to the administration office, it was Siobhan looking at me with a reproving frown. That's all I remember, no matter how much I try to rack my brain for pieces of the dream.

This morning I got up before Delphine, slipped out of the bed and onto the bathroom for an early shower. When I returned to the bedroom, she still hadn't moved. I packed the few things I had spread throughout the room during our short stay, and set the luggage by the door while Delphine slept. It was so early that John recruited me to help with his chores and I had company during breakfast while we enjoyed the bread I had taken out of the stone oven. We were outside, looking after his chickens before Delphine appeared with sleepy eyes, but looking well rested.

Our host helped us load everything in the trunk of the car, saying that his house is open to us for whenever we want to get away from the rest of the world. We thanked him, pet the dog goodbye, and Delphine took the keys.

I'm unusually quiet. The only sound is the rolling of tires over wet pavement and the radio tuned to the same station from when we arrived. Delphine glances at me now and again, a small crest between her eyebrows from the permanent frown. She can sense my disposition, my unsettled demeanor, but says nothing for miles.

"Have you talked with Daniel yet?" She eventually asks quietly, her eyes steady on the empty road.

"No," I say, my gaze moves briefly to her and almost immediately back to the side window. "I'll do it once I'm back at the hotel."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Delphine says with caution, clearly aware of my mood. "They did try to attack you…"

"They wanted the briefcase," I cut her off dryly and turn my head around to look at the backseat where Oskar's notes are back inside the briefcase. "I'm not taking it with me."

"You're not?" Delphine sounds surprised, her eyes going to me for a fraction of a second.

"No," I answer. "You're keeping it and taking it back to the States," I explain. "Once there, we'll find a way for you to give it back to me."

"I see…" she murmurs to herself. "And what are you going to do in the meantime?"

"Like I said, I'm gonna have to call Daniel to see what he says," I repeat. "I might try to look into some more businesses that LLC has made, try to find a pattern."

"That's not your job, Cosima," Delphine reminds me and I can easily detect the concern in her voice.

"Is that what you're doing here, Delphine?" I ask with an edge. "To make sure I only do what I'm told."

"Are we back at that?" Concern turns to annoyance instantly. "I thought we moved past this."

"Just because I stopped asking doesn't mean I'm over it," I say, her irritation spiking my own.

Delphine shakes her head, mumbles something in French under her breath that I can't understand, and her hard stare locks on the road before us. It's many miles later before I feel her eyes fall on me again, and I hear her take a deep breath, but Delphine remains silent, the soft rock the only noise.

I have my head against the window, my eyes closed most of the time, but I do not sleep, my mind won't let me. I'm not entirely sure why I'm snapping at her like this, and the only explanation is the remnants of the dream. It's irrational, it was only a dream, no matter how real it felt, but I know it comes from real memories intertwined with present events.

"Why did you break up with me?"

My question slices through the air, breaking the silence like glass shattering unexpectedly. Immediately I feel the energy shift inside the vehicle and the fragile balance lost with those words. Delphine tightens her grip on the wheel, knuckles turning white, and she straightens her back against the seat, her body tense.

"This is not the time for that," she tries to brush me off, her voice hard as steel.

"I don't see a better time for it," I counter, the casual shrug I give completely at odds with my disposition. "We have miles ahead of us and plenty of time to talk."

The muscles of her jaw flex and she continues without looking at me. "It was such a long time ago, Cosima. Why can't you just let it go?"

"I think we've established that I'm not good at that." I don't disarm. I want my answer. This is one question I can't simply ignore.

Delphine sighs, defeated, and her gaze softens, but she continues to look ahead. "If you're looking for some grand justification, I'm afraid you'll be disappointed," she eventually says.

"I just want the truth, Delphine," I reply in a soft voice, staring at her, trying to read her expression but it reveals nothing.

"What do you want me to say?" She asks exasperated, her tone gaining momentum. "People were talking and I broke under the pressure. I thought I could take it, but eventually it caught up to me."

"People always talk," I comment when she goes quiet again, in an attempt to pry more from her.

"But I wasn't like you," her voice rises, the grip on the wheel tightens again. "You were right. I did care what they said about me. Besides, it somehow got to my mother that I was  _socializing with a known lesbian_ ," at this she stops to emit a sound between a laugh and a scoff. "Probably one of the girls told her mother who talked with my mother who talked with my stepfather… you know how these things go, spreading like wildfire."

I shake my head and she's right, I'm disappointed, but not exactly surprised. Of course Delphine would've caved, I guess I was just holding on to the hope that there was something more than that. If it was that simple, I wanted to believe she would've at least put up a fight.

"They threatened to transfer me, Cosima," Delphine adds quietly after a few seconds of silence.

"So?" I snort. "As far as I remember, it's not like you loved that place. You said it yourself that you couldn't stand the people in there."

"You were there!" She deadpans without hesitation. "And yeah, I might've gone about it the wrong way, but I  _did_ have a plan."

I'm speechless for a moment, unsure how to react to her words.

"I needed to get them off my back," she carries on without waiting for my answer. "That's why I did what I did, said what I said, and yes, I'm sorry I had to do it in front of everyone else, but that was necessary."

"You could've warned me," I murmur, my voice finally coming out. "How could I've known you had some plan?"

"How?!" Delphine's voice raises again, her stare going to me for a moment. "I was constantly under someone else's radar. You were… lucky, Cosima, that people didn't care about what you did. I didn't have that privilege."

"You have funny definitions for luck and privilege," I say somewhat cold, but I do understand what she's saying. Still, I bite back out of habit maybe because I've hold on to my bitterness for so long.

"That may be," Delphine doesn't disagree. "Nonetheless, that's why I stayed out of your way. I needed to play my part," she goes on to explain. "I was going to tell you when I felt the time was right. It was a miscalculation on my part."

She stops and shakes her head to herself once more, her breathing shallow and rapid, constantly readjusting her position on the seat. Delphine is getting restless, her posture tense, her foot heavy on the gas until she catches herself and eases off, slowing to a speed more appropriate to the condition of the road.

"I thought I had time…" she says quietly, like she's talking to herself. "Although I should've known, you never were very patient and when I was ready to talk to you, it was already too late." Delphine pauses to laugh bitterly. "And just my fucking luck, you go ahead and get yourself expelled!"

"You say that as if I did it intentionally," I put up a weak defense for what she's telling me, not liking the way she's wording her side of the story.

"It might not have been intentional, but it was reckless," Delphine counters. "I'd warned you and you ignored it. I guess you had other priorities at the time, like finding ways to sneak out to do God knows what with God knows who," she adds and her voice is cold again, her fingers flexing tensely on the wheel.

"That's rich coming from you!" My anger is bubbling, the jealousy in her words feels incredibly misplaced. "We were done, you made sure I knew it. Not even one week later you already had some douche all over you."

"I told you, I needed them off my scent!" Delphine's voice wavers slightly with fury, her eyes still on the road. "What I didn't think was that when I came to tell you, you wouldn't bother to listen, you never gave me the possibility to explain myself. And now, that it doesn't matter, you want answers…" She scoffs.

"So, let me see if I get this right: it was not enough for you to humiliate me in front of everyone else, you needed to have some dude attached to you, and then you wanted to talk with me, give me your explanations?" I ask, resentment pressing my words, not expecting or waiting for an answer. "Great plan that was… what was it? Having everyone believing that you were straight and when they were thoroughly convinced of that we would go back to how things were?" I keep pushing and she remains silent.

"Has it ever occurred to you that I didn't want to be your dirty little secret?" The anger that has been stored within me through all these years comes out in force. "At least Lucy wasn't ashamed of who she was. At least with her I wasn't always wondering when she would push me away," I add, knowing that the words would hurt her in some way. "I was sad when you so unceremoniously discarded me, but I wasn't exactly surprised and that would always be the problem with us. You didn't know what you wanted."

"Oh… I'm sorry if I was struggling with myself, I'm sure it gave you an hard time," Delphine says, her voice rising and the touch of irony in her voice is almost palpable. "But I'm so fucking happy that you had no problems finding someone who could give you what I obviously couldn't."

"Yeah… you couldn't give it to me, but had no problems giving it to every other guy." My words are bitter, harsh even to my own ears, but I'm so wired up that I don't think of taken them back.

This time, Delphine does look at me, and the anger is still there, burning hotly in her golden eyes, but there's something else in her gaze that I can't put my finger on it. "Oh, fuck you! You of all people should know better than to believe everything you hear," she says quietly and it's a stark contrast to the way we were exchanging accusations, but somehow it sounds sharper.

After that I'm quiet, her words struck a chord and I'm left speechless, stunned by the pain I can hear in her voice. Delphine's breathing is shallow for a couple of minutes, her eyes sparkling with a silent fury. She is dead set on the road, in a obvious attempt to ease her anger, but her body seems to be refusing to relax, her back ramrod straight, her hands gripping the wheel with force. I stare at her sideways, while she speeds over the limit for miles, before she releases a shaky breath and slows down. But most of the time my eyes are out the side window, watching the bare branches of the trees bowing heavily with the weight of the snow. The sight is postcard material, but my dark thoughts don't allow me to appreciate it.

It's hard to believe it now; looking at Delphine I see a confident woman, even then that was the image she projected and I, like everyone else, had bought into it. But she was just a teenage girl, like myself, she obviously had her insecurities and dealt with them the best way she knew how. Was it the best way to do it? Probably not, but she doesn't deserve all the anger I gave her. I'm not even sure why I choose to say that, maybe because I knew it was the most effective way to hurt her. I'm so used to seeing her as the bad guy in our story that that was my knee jerk reaction.

"I'm sorry, that was uncalled for," I swallow my pride and admit in a quiet voice.

"This is why I didn't want to talk about it," Delphine says, briefly looking in my direction. "What good will do to drag the past back into the light, Cosima? What's done is done," her voice is much calmer, the voice of someone who has come to terms with the past. "There's no point on assigning guilt after so long. I understand why you'd be angry for how things turn out, I don't blame you for it, you didn't know what was going on. However, I'm not willing to carry all the blame for it either."

I raise my brow suspiciously at her. "Didn't you blame me even a little bit?"

"Well… I wish you hadn't gotten yourself kicked out." Her chuckle surprises me. "I mean… smoking pot in the church…"

"I was looking for some sort of spiritual elevation," I reply between a smile.

"Did it work?" She's laughing openly now, the corner of her eye on me.

"I didn't have time to get there." I shrug and she continues to laugh.

It takes us some time to regain our composure and when I catch Delphine stealing another glance, her golden eyes are bright with humor, her smile comfortable, which I return with a grin of my own.

"I hated you for a while," Delphine admits quietly, and for a moment I'm not sure if she actually spoke the words. "When you were gone… part of me felt betrayed. I know it was unfair, selfish even, but… " she pauses again, shaking her head. "You were my only friend, Cosima. Maybe I was more mad at myself than angry at you, because of how everything failed so spectacularly."

Delphine holds my gaze for as long as she dares to take her eyes off the road, a sad smile on her face. I don't know if she's waiting for some sort of answer, but I have nothing to offer her that would serve as any sort of comfort. I could say I'm sorry, but that would've been dishonest. It might not have been her fault, and I no longer blame her for it, but I'm not ready to take this upon myself either. The only thing I can do is respond to her in the same manner, a corner of my lip rises in an half-assed attempt of a smile.

Out of nowhere a lightning slashes through the gray sky, announcing the powerful thunder that follows and shakes the earth and a rain so strong that the wipers can't work fast enough to keep the path ahead visible.

"We need to stop," I state the obvious.

Delphine hums. "Yes. We had to anyway, we need to refuel and get something to eat," she says, her eyes peeled on the road, the car moving slowly. "There's a gas station in a few miles, we'll stop there."

"How do you know that?" I ask.

"I studied our route this morning," she answers with simplicity.

"Right! Delphine, the woman with the plan!" I joke, trying to lighten the mood that still feels too tense.

"It's no secret that I like to be prepared," she defends in a tone that tells me she's not exactly finding my teasing funny.

"What you like is to be in control and you lose your shit when you don't have it," I correct her and I can see her scowling, even if her stare doesn't go to me. "I mean… I can appreciate that, but remember Delphine, everything in moderation."

"I do  _not_ lose my shit!" Delphine pushes back, sounding even more defensive in the process. "And that's an odd advice coming from you."

"Alright, alright…" I raise both my hands, but start to laugh. "No reason to be mad about this."

"I'm not mad," she mumbles to herself.

"Sure…"

I let it go, but continue to glance at her, amused by the frown that persists on her brow while she concentrates on the blurry road through the heavy rain.

After a few more minutes we arrive at the promised stop, the gas station exactly where Delphine said it would be, and despite my words, I'm actually thankful for her preparation. I leave her to take care of the fuel for the car and the food for us, while I find my way to the toilet. When I exit, I look around confused, the car is no longer next to the gas pump, and only when I notice Delphine's arm waving at me, do I see her. She has moved the car to an area not too far, parked under a white, hard plastic cover, Delphine leaning against it, smoking a cigarette and with a couple of bags set on the roof of the vehicle. I stare at her for a moment, simply because, in order for me to get there, I have to walk quite a bit through the rain. But she remains unmoved and even from a significant distance I can see a pleased smirk on her lips. I raise both my hands, signaling her to come get me, but she only shrugs, unfazed by my predicament and, if I had any doubts about her ploy, they vanish.

I run fast, ducking my head but that doesn't prevent me from getting drenched. The smirk is still on Delphine's lips when I finally get to cover, stopping in front of her.

"Happy?" I ask, waving my arms to try to shake some of the water.

"Mildly," Delphine says with a large grin and takes a drag of the cigarette.

"Fucking unbelievable," I murmur, going over the plastic bags and get a bottle of water and a wrapped sandwich. "Karma will bite you in the ass, you know…" I add, unscrewing the bottle to quench my thirst.

"I think I can take a little rain without bitching," she shrugs.

"A little rain?! I almost drowned out there!" I complain.

My stare fallows her while she lowers herself to put out the cigarette on a puddle and drops it in a nearby bin. Delphine is unmoved by my argument, and she continues smile, getting food for herself.

The rain drums violently on the plastic over our heads and on the asphalt. At least it's not windy, and the large drips fall straight down to the earth. The sound of the rain is only interrupted by the occasional thunder, the center of the storm getting closer.


End file.
